


Not Quite Heaven

by boldlygoingnowherefast



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Alternate Universe, Cardassia, Fluff, Humor, M/M, My Blue Heaven, Still Takes Place on DS9, Witness Protection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-06-21
Packaged: 2020-02-10 16:10:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 34,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18663787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boldlygoingnowherefast/pseuds/boldlygoingnowherefast
Summary: When Garak ends up in hot water with the Obsidian Order, the Central Command agrees to put him in Federation protection in exchange for names and information about the Order. Julian Bashir, a tired Starfleet Intelligence agent looking for a bit more excitement in his life, gets more than he bargained for when Starfleet assigns him to Garak’s protection.An AU where the Obsidian Order is an organized crime ring, where Julian Bashir never became a doctor, and where even Elim Garak can experience culture shock.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story came from a conversation in my discord server about a Garak/Bashir AU inspired by My Blue Heaven (1990) and spiraled out of control because I couldn’t get the idea of an FBI Agent/witness protection dynamic out of my head. Watching the movie is not required to enjoy this fic, but I encourage it because it’s iconic and incredibly enjoyable. An endless thank you to [boomdeyadah](https://boomdeyadah.tumblr.com) for making this possible.
> 
> This takes place in the climate of the third/fourth season of DS9 where the Dominion is a looming threat but the war hasn’t started yet. Many plot points have been shifted in order to accommodate this series of events, so bear with me. If you want to chat with me about it, or anything else for that matter, come find me on [tumblr](https://sareks.tumblr.com)

Julian was on his fourth raktajino and staring blearily at his computer console when the PADD landed on top of his desk with a clatter. Julian startled and looked up to see Sisko standing in front of him, a wary expression on his face. Julian hadn’t even heard the swish of his office doors opening, and he chastised himself for his flagging vigilance.

“Good evening, Agent Bashir,” Sisko said with a small smile. “I hope I haven’t caught you at a bad time.”

Julian shook his head and turned off his console. He rubbed his eyes and made an effort to appear alert. “I was just finishing up some reports, but they’ve started spinning. A change of pace is welcome.”

“I know the feeling,” Sisko responded as Julian picked up the PADD.

“What’s this?” Julian asked, narrowing his eyes at the tiny writing on the screen.

“New orders from Starfleet Intelligence,” Sisko said. Starfleet Intelligence had taken to delivering Julian’s orders through Sisko ever since Julian had been stationed on Deep Space Nine. It was easier that way because Julian often had to go to Sisko for approval anyway. It had also been a great step in improving the relationship between Starfleet and Starfleet Intelligence. Not many Intelligence officers had good relationships with the local command, even in long-term positions like this one. Senior officers usually felt Intelligence officers were stepping on their toes, and that was why Julian did his best to be light on his feet and as unobtrusive as possible.  

“They’re putting you in charge of a witness protection case,” Sisko continued. “An important one.”

Julian thumbed through the orders and his eyebrows shot up in surprise. “A Cardassian?”

“Brought in on the edge of Federation space in a tiny stolen freighter. He claims he’ll turn in Obsidian Order agents in exchange for immunity.”

“That’s huge!” Julian exclaimed. “We’ve been looking for an in on the Obsidian Order for _years_.”

“Starfleet Intelligence thinks this Cardassian might be very important in the Order.”

“Where are they placing him?” Julian asked, already thinking about how much work he would have to do to get ready to leave the station. He hadn’t been put on an assignment elsewhere in nearly two years now, and though he had grown to love this strange little piece of Bajoran space, he was also looking forward to what his future held.

“Here.”

Julian looked up at Sisko again. “Here? On DS9?”

Sisko nodded. “It’s close enough to Cardassian space that we’ll be able to contact them relatively quickly should the need arise, and not many Cardassians set foot on DS9 anymore. The chances of him getting caught here are very low.”

Julian let out a puff of air. “That’ll be interesting.” Julian had been indirectly involved in Cardassian affairs for his entire time on DS9, and he was familiar with their personality as a species. Julian suspected he had his work cut out for him, trying to make one of them fit in enough on a station of aliens that he didn’t draw too much attention.

“The Central Command is also counting on us to keep him safe. They want to start expunging the Obsidian Order from Cardassia, and they know he won’t be safe on Prime until the Obsidian Order loosens its hold.”

Julian nodded. “When does he arrive?”

“Tomorrow. We can have quarters set up for him in no time. Just let me know where you want him.”

“Closer to the officers’ quarters than the civilians, and as close to my quarters as you can get him.”

“You got it,” Sisko replied. “Anything else you need before he arrives? Should we warn the senior staff?”

Julian shook his head. “We want the least amount of spotlight on him as possible. We’ll tell them if it comes up, but no big announcement. As long as he’s not too skittish, he should be fine.”

“I trust you to make this run as smoothly as you can,” Sisko said. “I don’t want unnecessary drama on my station if it can be helped.”

“Of course, sir. I’ll do my best.”

They made the last few arrangements they could, and then Sisko bid him goodnight. Julian stared down at the clutter on his desk and wondered what was in store for him.

 

The transport to Deep Space Nine was crowded, cold, and loud. Garak had snagged an aisle seat to prevent agitating his claustrophobia, but it didn’t stop him from wanting to crawl out of his skin by the time Deep Space Nine was visible in the distance. A Bajoran station run by the Federation was not where Garak would have imagined himself five years ago, but it was far better than the Starbase he had just come from, and it was definitely an improvement on certain death on Cardassia.

Every time Garak felt his resolve wavering, he reminded himself that there was nothing left for him there as it was. The Order needed to fall before Garak was safe on Prime, and that would require some major work on the part of the Central Command.  

Despite being one of the Obsidian Order’s better agents, Garak had rarely left Cardassia. He thrived on the narrow streets of the Tarklan Sector of Cardassia’s capital, ferrying information, rigging minor elections, and relocating shipments. It had been good work for fifteen years, and then Garak had ruined it.

DS9 would be something entirely new for Garak, and everything Garak had learned from dealing with other Cardassians day in and day out would be nearly useless there. If Garak had heard that rude Admiral correctly, he was to be the only Cardassian on the station.

He was relying on _humans_ to keep the Obsidian Order off his tail.

Garak hoped he wasn’t being incredibly stupid.

The transport completed its docking procedures and the all-clear was given for passengers to disembark. Garak slung his bag over his shoulder and followed the crowd through the airlock. Cardassian architecture greeted him, and he feared the architecture would be the last thing he found familiar.

“Mr. Garak?” came an accented voice to his left. Garak turned and his gaze landed on a thin human with large brown eyes and a suit that was a touch too big for him.

“Agent Bashir.” Garak responded with a slight nod of his head.

Bashir tucked whatever reaction he wanted to have at Garak’s sight neatly away, and his expression shuttered into one of friendly politeness. Garak could recognize the skills of an intelligence officer just about anywhere, and Bashir appeared to be a good one if perhaps a little rusty.

“That’s me. But you can call me Julian.” Julian said with a sunny smile. Oh, he was going to be a dangerous one, wasn’t he? Garak already wanted to eat him up, and it had been barely five minutes. This man was in charge of his safety—Garak couldn’t consume him, not yet. “Why don’t you follow me and I’ll show you to your quarters? The trip must have been exhausting.”

Garak followed dutifully behind him, taking in his new home with rising dread. It was just as bright as the transport had been and even colder. People were staring, and Garak shot anyone who stared a little too long a dangerous smile that he dropped whenever Julian glanced at him. Garak was already scoping the place out in the hopes that he could find something to occupy his time. There was a bar and a Ferengi bartender. Now, that was promising.

Julian was giving him an overview of the station command as they walked—there was Captain Sisko and Major Kira and a security chief named Odo. Garak knew he would have no trouble remembering the names and descriptions Julian was so helpfully providing for him, and he was sure they would come in handy at some point, but he wasn’t particularly interested at the moment. They were all non-Cardassians, and Garak cared little for them.

“Here we are!” Julian exclaimed, and he read the passcode aloud to Garak as he keyed it in. The quarters were roomy and clean, and Garak immediately hated them. “To anyone who checks the DS9 travel manifests, you are Tolar Ganek, a Cardassian tailor who moved here when his parents died. We’ve locked down on station security, so if anyone tries to access these files, we’ll know immediately. You should be safe here.”

Garak didn’t like the thought of shedding his identity, his livelihood, and his name all in one go, but there was not much for it. These precautions were the only thing keeping the Order from finding him immediately. Garak set his bag down and began poking at the replicator which had, unfortunately, been recoded from its Cardassian origins and contained mostly Bajoran and Federation foods. He would have to recode it himself, then.

“My personal comm code is in your console if you ever need to get in touch with me,” Julian was saying. “I can give you a tour of DS9, if you would like? This place can be tricky for newcomers with its layered corridors and….” He trailed off. “Garak?”

Garak looked up from the replicator to see Julian looking at him in mild confusion. Garak prowled closer to him. He pasted a wide smile on his face that he knew hovered somewhere between friendly and threatening and stopped close enough that he knew would be uncomfortable.

“Thank you for everything, Agent Bashir. I can tell we’re going to get along marvelously.” He gripped Julian’s upper arms and beamed. He could feel the tension running through Julian’s frame which was evidence that Julian was not as at ease in his presence as appeared. Good. The man was smarter than he looked.

“I’m just doing my job,” Julian replied. “Let me know if you need anything. Going into witness protection isn’t easy, and I want this to go as smoothly for you as possible.”

Garak nodded and released his grip on Julian’s arms.

Julian gave him one last smile before he exited Garak’s quarters. From the back, the suit wasn’t any better. It was a shame, really. Whoever had sold Julian that suit needed to reconsider their profession.

 

“You don’t understand, Miles. This assignment is a lot less glamorous than I thought it would be,” Julian said with a sigh. They were seated in the Replimat for lunch, and Julian was pouting over his plate of spaghetti.

Miles frowned. “He’s a Cardassian, and he’s wanted by their top crime organization. How is that not interesting enough for you?”

Julian pushed his food around on his plate. “I haven’t been off this station for an extended period of time in nearly two years! I want to go undercover. I want to wear something other than a suit and pretend to be someone I’m not! No one is going to come looking for Garak here. He’s safe, and until he’s given his testimony to the Federation and the Central Command, there’s going to be nothing else for me to do. They’ve taken away all my other duties. Except paperwork.”

Miles scratched the side of his head and his face twisted as he tried to figure out how to respond to Julian. “I’m sorry you feel that way. I’d honestly kill for some peace and quiet right now. We have _another_ vole infestation.”

Julian made a face in sympathy. “I’d help, but I have a very high-profile witness to keep safe.”

Miles rolled his eyes. “Sure, sure. Intelligence officers wouldn’t know a day of good, honest work if it hit them in the face.”

“That’s not fair! My first mission involved collecting data while posing as a janitor at a university. That was plenty of work.”

Miles didn’t seem convinced. “I’m sure your Cardassian case will prove interesting in the end,” Miles said. “Just hopefully not in a bad way. Cardassians always end up in some sort of drama.”

“Have you met Garak yet?”

“I haven’t had the pleasure, no,” Miles replied.

“He’s different than I expected.”

Miles looked up from his food with raised eyebrows. “How so?”

Julian struggled to put it into words. “He’s…” Julian was going to say suave but realized that Miles would probably pick on him for that one. Julian didn’t need to give away the fact that he had immediately found Garak to be intriguing and attractive, especially considering Miles already thought Julian’s standards were too broad. Instead, Julian shook his head. “I don’t know. He was very friendly and seemed like he was willing to play along with the rules. I definitely hadn’t expected it to be that easy.”

“He hasn’t had a real chance to break the rules yet,” Miles responded with a wave of his fork. “I would keep an eye on him if I were you.”

Julian shot Miles a look but didn’t comment, and the rest of their lunch was spent discussing the new holoprogram they were going to try out that evening.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Garak has a run-in with station security.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I lied about posting one chapter a week. But less time between postings is better than more time, right?

After poking at the replicator for a while longer and managing to make it produce a few passable Cardassian dishes, Garak decided it was time to stop hiding in his quarters and explore the station. Julian had offered to be his guide, but Garak much preferred his own company, and he would be able to explore at his own speed. He headed straight for the Promenade, where he had seen the most excitement and foot traffic. He planned to visit the bar later that evening, but he wanted to explore the shops before they closed for the evening.

There were a handful of restaurants that appeared to have decent fair, a tea shop, and a knickknack store that smelled like incense and wood polish when Garak stepped inside. The Bajoran shopkeeper watched him carefully, and for a moment Garak wondered if there was something on his face. A few more minutes of the nearly hostile gaze, and Garak was close to asking the man what his problem was. 

A Starfleet officer in a yellow uniform stepped into the shop. Garak hadn’t figured out how to tell their uniforms apart yet, and he decided that was one of the first things he would do when he went back to his quarters that night. Knowing someone’s rank and job before speaking to them often made people much more amicable. It was something Garak had learned from dealing with military men on Cardassia, and he was sure it applied to alien races as well. The officer—a short man with blonde hair and broad shoulders—greeted the shopkeeper, and the mood in the shop immediately changed. Garak watched from behind a display case as the Bajoran man smiled widely, and the two held a shallow but friendly conversation about nothing in particular.

With the attention of the shopkeeper no longer directed at him, Garak slunk out of the shop.

There was a bowling alley and a martial arts training center, both of which Garak decided to avoid. He didn’t know exactly what bowling entailed, but there were raised voices and it smelled like cheap alcohol.

As he walked along and peered into the various shops, Garak realized that the Bajoran inhabitants of this station were _glaring_ at him. It was not much longer before he realized he was the recipient of their negative attention because he was _Cardassian_. It was a strange realization for someone who had never left Cardassia.

Garak knew that the Occupation had been unfavorable, but Garak had only seen the negative effects the Occupation had on Cardassia. Evidently, the Bajorans had some hard feelings about the whole thing, and they were assuming that every Cardassian was to blame.

Garak took one step into the bar and nearly ran into a bulky Bajoran man. The man’s lips immediately pulled back in a snarl.

“Watch where you’re going, spoonhead.”

Garak’s eyes narrowed.

“You don’t belong here. This is a _Bajoran_ station, and if you remember, Bajor is free of your kind.”

“I’m sure this is all a misunderstanding,” Garak replied. “I mean you no harm at all. I'm just a tailor here to--”

“You do harm just by being here!” the man snapped back. He grabbed the front of Garak’s shirt, tugging him in close. “Your smug grin is doing you no favors.”

“And your body odor is doing _you_ no favors. I’m sorry, but I’m meeting a friend and really must be going.” It was only Garak’s experience in getting out of scuffles in the street that allowed him to break the hold that the Bajoran had on him, and quickly he darted away before the man had a chance to do anything more than widen his eyes.

 

Garak had visited all the shops by 1900 hours and was growing bored. In the city, there was always something to do. This station was tiny in comparison, and there were no other Cardassians with which to hold enlightening conversations. On a space station, one had to find their own entertainment.  

Garak wandered to the docking ring where he could peer through the airlocks to see the ships beyond. Garak’s life had primarily been stationary, and something about the sight of ships meant for long distances was enchanting. He missed Cardassia dearly, but where else could a ship like this take him?

The runabout sitting behind this airlock beckoned him. He wanted to get closer. There was no one in the corridor right now, and the runabout was silent as well. Garak eyed the keypad mounted to the wall beside the airlock. This was a Cardassian station, and regardless of the refit done when the Federation took up shop, the locks still operated the same way. Garak took one last glance down the corridor and then set to work on the lock.

The warm screen was familiar under his fingers, and it took barely any time at all for the airlock to hiss open for him. He smiled and stepped through.

The runabout’s lights came on, and he slowly made his way to the front console. The leather of the pilot’s chair was soft when he sat down. He wondered how long it would take him to reach Cardassia in this thing. Not very long, he imagined.

“ _Ahem_.”

Garak turned towards the new voice and saw a strange man with a smoothed, orange face wearing a brown Bajoran militia uniform. “Trespassing in a Starfleet runabout is a serious crime.”

Garak blinked and let a large, innocent smile grace his features. “Trespassing? I’m afraid I got lost.”

“The airlock has a coded lock, which you broke into.”

“I simply thought the access pad was faulty. You can’t blame me for trying to get into what I thought was my room!”

“This is the docking ring.”

Garak sat forward in the chair. “It is? Oh my. I’m very lost.”

“Come with me, please.”

“Am I in trouble?” Garak asked as he stood up. “Mister...?”

“Constable Odo. And yes, you're in trouble.”

“Odo? You’re the shapeshifter!” Odo’ital had been a common talking point on Cardassia; he was a scientific curiosity and anyone who had seen Odo do his neck trick in person was to be envied. Right now, Odo was not doing his neck trick and no sane Cardassian would envy Garak. 

Odo sighed. “Yes, I am. Now, please follow me.”

Odo’s hand was firm around Garak’s upper arm, and if Garak didn’t know Odo was a changeling, he would think nothing unusual about the hand on his arm.

“Is this really necessary?” Garak asked. “I’ve done nothing wrong!”

This usually worked on Cardassia, but Odo remained unmoved.

“You broke into a runabout,” Odo said in a flat voice as he led Garak back out to the docking ring and sealed the airlock behind them.  The march to his office was brisk, and they received a few curious looks on the way there.

“I still think this is a misunderstanding,” Garak said as Odo pulled him through the security office and into a circular room of holding cells.

Odo sighed, which was fascinating because Garak was fairly certain shapeshifters didn’t need to breathe—sighing likely took more effort for Odo. What a strange creature. He lowered the containment field on a holding cell and gestured for Garak to enter.

Garak gave him an innocent look but Odo’s dull expression didn’t yield as he placed a hand on Garak’s back and ushered him inside. The buzz of the containment field tingled at the base of Garak’s skull.

“Do you have identification of some sort? A name I can look up? Why are you on Deep Space Nine?”

“I’m sightseeing, of course, on my way to vacation on Bajor! Did you know they have some of the loveliest beaches, and the Southern Continent’s weather is remarkable this time of year?”

“I spent most of my life on Bajor,” Odo replied dryly. “A Cardassian tourist on Bajor right now is about as likely as the Prophets coming out of the wormhole to have lunch with me. A Cardassian on Deep Space Nine is nearly as unlikely. I will figure out why you’re here with a little bit of research, and then you’ll regret not telling me yourself.”

Garak watched as Odo walked away.

 

“You’re really sweet, Julian, and we’ve had a good time, but that’s all we’ve had,” Leeta said, a sympathetic smile on her face. “I need something more in a partner, and I think we should end this before either of us gets too attached.”

Julian sighed. He had expected Leeta to eventually stop going on dates with him, but that didn’t make it any less disappointing. Leeta was cute, friendly, and a lot of fun and Julian had enjoyed dating her. “I understand,” he responded.

She leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek before leaving Quark’s. Julian was left alone at the table, pondering his abysmal track record and feeling sorry for himself. Julian was not good at being alone, but he knew that his life was setting him up for a solitary existence. He was an intelligence officer, after all, and intelligence officers often led lonely lives.

Julian was thinking about calling Miles to let him know that they should reschedule their holosuite reservation when his communicator chirped.

“Odo to Bashir.”

“Bashir here. What can I do for you, Odo?”

“I have your Cardassian in a holding cell, and I was hoping you could shed a little light on his identity.”

Bashir scrambled up from his chair and hurried to the security office, his mind running through a dozen different things Garak could have done. Murder was at the top of the list, but there was also stealing, extortion, and breaking and entering. Garak had been a part of a major crime operation after all, and that behavior didn’t necessarily stop when the person was removed from the organization. Julian had hoped that his desire to stay safe would overpower his need to break the law, but Julian may have been too optimistic with that one.

Odo was sitting behind his desk when Julian stepped through the doorway.

“The files I found on your Cardassian friend were obviously fake,” Odo began. “So I contacted Captain Sisko to see if he had any information. He directed me to you.”

“What did Garak do, Odo?”

Odo’s gaze was sharp. “So his name is Garak? Interesting.” Odo shook his head. “ _Garak_ broke into a runabout.”

Julian pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry, Odo, but he’s a very important witness in a case against the Obsidian Order. If you book him, his name will get out and it will blow his cover. I’m going to have to ask you to let him go.”

Odo crossed his arms. “Actions have consequences, Agent Bashir, and breaking into a runabout is a serious crime.”

“I promise I’ll talk to him. His life has been… very different than ours, and it’s going to take some work, but I’ll make sure he doesn’t do it again,” Julian responded. “But I’m pulling rank here, Odo. Release him to me.”

“This is outrageous,” Odo objected.  

“I’m sorry, Odo,” Julian said as he stood and walked through the doors to the holding cells. Garak was pacing his cell and looking very unhappy about being there, but his expression brightened when he saw Julian.

“Agent Bashir! How wonderful it is to see you. The Constable here seems to think breaking into the runabout was intentional. In fact, I think he is misinterpreting the situation entirely. I am the injured party and think—”

“That’s fine, Garak. I’m letting you out.”

“Agent Bashir!” Odo snapped, but Julian was already using his override on the containment field and ushering Garak out of the office with a hand on his arm.

“I’m sorry, Odo, but it’s Starfleet policy.”

Odo’s grumbling followed them out of the security office.

“It was nice to meet you, Constable!” Garak called back with a smile, and Julian resisted letting out a groan.

They stopped just outside Quark’s. “Garak, what happened?”

“Did you know that the Bajorans on this station are remarkably rude?”

Julian sighed. “Bajor is still recovering from the horrible damage Cardassia inflicted on them. They’re going to have some hard feelings. And don’t try to change the subject, please.”

“You mean the unfortunate business with the runabout? I simply lost my way. There should be more signs around this station if you ask me.”

Julian shook his head. “Do you want a drink? I need a drink." 

“That sounds wonderful,” Garak replied, brightening.

Bashir pressed his badge. “Miles, I’m not going to be available tonight. Duty calls.”

“That’s fine, Julian. Tell Garak I said hello.”

Garak was looking sideways at him as they made their way into Quark’s. “Who was that?”

“A friend of mine,” Julian responded, too irritated with the evening’s turn of events to be forthcoming.

Quark’s was busy, but there was an empty table on the balcony. One of the Ferengi waiters was by their side as soon as they sat down, and they both ordered drinks. Julian ran a hand through his hair and tried to let the stress of the day wash away from him.

“You weren’t off Cardassia much, were you?” Julian asked.

“No,” Garak replied.

“I’m sorry if you were unprepared for the hostility. I should have warned you, but I figured you’d know.”

“Seems a bit narrow-minded to hate someone because he’s Cardassian,” Garak said.

“You’re going to have to play as nice as possible. _And_ you’re going to need to follow the rules. No more breaking into Starfleet property. You may have gotten away with breaking the law on Cardassia Prime, but this is a small station and Odo is not prone to forgiveness. My protection only extends so far when it comes to the Bajoran militia.”

“I will be on my best behavior, I assure you,” Garak responded, eyes wide and innocent.

Julian didn’t believe him, but Garak appeared to be an intelligent man, and Julian wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. “Please, Garak, this is important. If you have any questions, please let me know, but you have to follow station rules. Your case is the only one on my plate right now, and there’s a lot riding on you surviving until the trial.”

“I will do my best to not make your job any more difficult. After all, you have my best interests at heart, don’t you?”

“Yes, I do,” Julian said. He shook his head. “Today has been a long day and I need to get some rest. I’m sure you do too.”

“Of course, Agent Bashir, I will not get in the way of you and your bed. I will let you know if I need anything. You have been very helpful today.”

Julian’s shoulders slumped. “Thank you. You can find your way back to your quarters?”

“I’m sure I can figure it out,” Garak replied.

“Your quarters are on the habitat ring, not the docking ring. Remember that.”

Garak's smile was a bit too smug for Julian's liking. 

Julian realized as he walked out of Quark’s that he hadn’t thought about Leeta at all since learning that Garak had gotten in trouble with Odo. If anything, Garak was proving to be an interesting distraction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on [tumblr](https://sareks.tumblr.com)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Garak continues to settle into station life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Dukat
> 
> If you want to get a taste of the movie this AU is from, [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vn_MnIpwiLY) is the scene chapter 2 was based on.

“Julian!”

Julian blinked and tore his eyes away from his morning raktajino. He squinted up at Major Kira, who was looming over his small table in the Replimat, hands crossed formidably over her chest. “Can I help you, major?”

“Who’s the Cardassian?”

“Why do you ask?” Julian wasn’t normally coy, but he was tired and he could tell Kira was already on the warpath.

“I ask because he was only here a few hours before breaking into a runabout!”

“Please have a seat, Major,” Julian said with a gesture to the empty chair across from him.

She let out a short huff of air and sat down heavily.

“The Cardassian is an important witness in the case against the Obsidian Order. He’s giving the Federation and the Central Command names and information in exchange for safety. He can’t be processed or his cover will be blown since he’s not even officially on DS9.”

She glared at him. “So he’s allowed to do whatever he wants on this station until then?”

It was Julian’s turn to frown. “I told him to follow the rules! I know it’s a tough situation, but I have my orders, and so does Captain Sisko.”

“Orders that have you harboring a Cardassian criminal, you mean.”

“A _minor_ Cardassian criminal who’s giving us incredibly valuable information.”

“I want you to keep him on a tight leash, Agent Bashir, I’m warning you.”

He held up his hands in surrender. “I will, okay? I will. It’s a small station. I’ll watch him.”

Kira eyed him for a few more tense moments, and then her posture relaxed slightly. “You know, you’ve been here for so long and your missions have been so quiet that sometimes I forget you’re intelligence and not just another random operations officer or something.”

“The plainclothes don’t give me away?” he asked with a grin. Julian had felt a little left out when Starfleet had updated their uniforms to ones with lavender undershirts—they were dashing, and Bashir only wore a uniform when he was undercover, but most of the time, the plainclothes didn’t bother him.

Kira was smiling now, and Julian allowed himself to relax. She leaned forward in her chair to get closer. “If you need help dealing with the Cardassian, please let me know. I’ve been dealing with Cardassians for nearly my whole life. Sometimes they require a much firmer hand than you may be used to using.”

“Thank you, Major.”

Kira gave him a nod and got up, leaving him to his raktajino and his morning report. Their relationship with the Cardassians was better than it had ever been, and it seemed like Bajor and Cardassia were on their way to signing a peace treaty. Julian was sure that soon his position here on DS9 wouldn’t be necessary unless some other disaster struck that needed Starfleet Intelligence’s light touch.

Julian got up from the table, deposited his cup in the Replicator, and made his way to the turbolift. “Ops.”

Sisko was on a video call when Julian entered his office. Julian turned to leave him to it but Sisko gestured for him to sit down.  

_“Captain, I am sure you understand my preoccupation. He is very important to us, and you have not been known to treat Cardassian citizens with the respect they deserve.”_

“Gul Dukat, I assure you, your friend is under the best protection we have, and one of our best intelligence agents is assigned to his case! Agent Bashir, why don’t you come over here and introduce yourself to Gul Dukat?”

Julian blinked and made his way around the hulking desk to see a Cardassian with a very long neck seated on the other end of the transmission. “Uh. Hullo,” Julian began. “I’m Agent Bashir with Starfleet Intelligence and I’m ensuring that our friend gets through this unharmed.”

Dukat narrowed his eyes at Julian. “You are in charge of Garak’s safety?”

Julian had been fairly certain they weren’t using Garak’s name over the transmission to avoid it getting out, but it seemed Dukat didn’t have the same hesitation. “Yes, I am.”

Dukat was eyeing him in a way that made Julian want to fidget, but he forced himself to remain still.

“Well, _Agent,_ I hope you and the Captain here understand the gravity of the task you have been given. It’s unfortunate that Cardassians weren’t able to handle it, but I suppose not everyone has time to babysit the scum of society. Please have Garak send me a communication confirming his wellbeing within the next twelve hours. Until we speak again, Captain.”

The transmission ended and the Cardassian Union insignia reappeared on the screen. Both Julian and Sisko stared at it for a few moments, processing what had happened.

“Captain, do you mind if I ask who exactly that was?”

Sisko gestured to the seat across from him and Julian circled back around the desk to sit.

“That was Gul Dukat, a man who holds a minor position in the Central Command. He’s been put in charge of communicating directly with us about Garak. From what I’ve gathered he doesn’t trust us _or_ Garak, so it’s put him in an interesting position.”

“He sounds dreadful, if I might be so bold.”

A small smile tugged at the corner of Sisko’s mouth. “You’re not wrong. I’ve only had two conversations with him, and he’s been as pompous and condescending both times. Unfortunately, we have to work with him. Well, _I_ have to work with him.”

Julian grimaced. “I’m sorry about that, sir.”

Sisko shook his head. “You came here to inform me on the situation that went down yesterday afternoon on the promenade. I’ve heard what happened, but I’d like to hear what you think.”

Julian sighed. “Garak is a honed liar, sir. He’s been doing it his whole life to the point where I don’t think the man even cares what the truth is. I’m going to have to keep a very close eye on him.”

“See that you do. The rules apply to Mr. Garak just as much as they apply to everyone else, regardless of his protected status.”

“Understood, sir.”

Sisko tilted his head in consideration. “And try not to let him spend too much time with Quark.”

Julian barely resisted a shudder. “I’ll do my best, sir.”

As soon as he left Sisko’s office, he went looking for Garak. It was better to have Garak send a quick message to Dukat than to have the obnoxious Cardassian calling them back and accusing them of letting Garak die or something equally outrageous.

“Computer, locate the Cardassian lifesign.”

_“Unable to comply. No information on Cardassian biology available.”_

Julian let out an irritated huff of air. “Is there a lifesign in room 2343?”

_“Negative.”_

Julian ambled through the Promenade, searching for grey scales and slick black hair. The Promenade was busy, but Garak wasn’t among them. He wasn’t in the Replimat either.

Julian stepped into Quark’s and up to the bar as his patience rapidly dwindled. If he didn’t find Garak in the next ten minutes, he was giving up and going home. Dukat could wait another day for a return communication.

“What can I do for you, Bashir?” Quark asked with a greasy expression as he sidled up to where Julian was standing.

“Have you seen Garak, Quark?”

“How about a trade? You give me one piece of juicy station gossip, and I’ll tell you where he is.”

Julian frowned. “Quark, I don’t have time for your games. Tell me where he is and maybe I won’t have Odo put you in a holding cell for withholding the location of a man under Starfleet’s protection.”

”Garak’s in holosuite four,” Rom chimed in from the other end of the bar.

”Thank you, Rom,” Julian replied. 

What Garak was doing in a holosuite, Julian had no idea. Garak seemed the type to be unimpressed with holograms, but in truth, Julian didn’t know Garak at all. He thanked Rom while Quark rolled his eyes and made his way up the spiral stairs to the holosuites. He rang the buzzer on holosuite four.

“Garak, I need to talk to you!”

There was no answer. Julian frowned and pressed his ear to the door. Loud buzzing filtered through the thick metal, and Julian’s frown deepened. “Computer, open holosuite four, security override gamma alpha theta six.”

The computer beeped, and the doors slid open. Bright sunlight accosted his vision and he blinked to rid his sight of the blind spots caused by the sudden brightness. When the spots cleared, Julian felt all irritation flee him to be replaced with baffled shock.

Garak was wearing his usual wide-necked Cardassian suit, pushing an ancient piece of equipment across a patch of green grass. The device was letting out enough noise that it was no wonder Garak hadn’t heard the buzzer. The whole scene was surreal, more likely to feature in one of Julian’s nightmares than to be something Julian stumbled upon on a Tuesday evening.

Garak saw him, smiled, and turned the device off, which sputtered slowly to silence. “Hello, Julian!” His tone was cheerful and unbothered, as if he had run into Julian in the Replimat and not while mowing the lawn in a holoprogram of historic Earth.

Julian stepped forward onto the patch of green grass, springy under his shoes, and his gaze was drawn to the rows of perfect houses running into the distance. The sky was blue, and there were fluffy white clouds in the sky. It was idyllic, and Julian was becoming more and more confused. It would be one thing if Garak was doing something fun, like pretending to be a detective or driving a car, but no; Garak was cutting grass. “Garak, why are you running a holoprogram of 20th century Earth?”

Garak slid his palms together to rid them of dirt. “I thought it would give me insight into the simplistic human lifestyle, and since I’ll be living with humans for the foreseeable future, I decided to take advantage of these lovely holosuites.”

“Garak, humans haven’t used lawnmowers like that in at least three hundred years.” He squinted at the houses. “And Earth hasn’t looked like this in at least that long, either.”

Garak shrugged. “What did you need from me?”

Julian stared at him a moment longer, trying desperately to figure out what he was thinking. Julian was quickly learning that getting the truth from Garak wasn’t easy. Julian threw one more glance at the silent lawnmower before speaking.

“We got a communication from Dukat regarding your safety. He’s requesting a return communication from you, so we can prove you’re alive,” Julian said, and he rolled his eyes. “That man is insufferable.”

“I agree with you wholeheartedly. Why the Central Command assigned him to my case I will never know.” He gave Julian a small smile. “I’ll send him a transmission when I get to my quarters tonight.”

“Uh, I would prefer if you gave it to me so I can run it through all the proper encryptions before it gets sent over subspace.”

“If you insist.”

“Wonderful. Thank you.” Julian turned to leave but paused at the last moment and looked back at Garak. “I have a few holoprograms that I really like that take place on Earth if you’d be interested in trying them out. I think they’re a very good look into the human psyche. Better than mowing a lawn in historic Earth.”

Garak’s gaze sharpened in interest. “That is very kind of you.”

“It’s nothing, really. Just tell Quark I gave you the go-ahead. He has them at the bar.”

Julian was sure those would keep Garak entertained for a few weeks, and they were much more exciting than a _mowing_ holoprogram.

 

The next evening, when Garak entered Quark’s it was quieter than it had been the day before. Garak wandered in a little after 2000 hundred hours and took a seat at the bar. He was hoping to get more information about this place from someone more on his level, and the Ferengi bartender seemed to be the most likely candidate.

“What can I get for you?” the Ferengi in question asked him, and Garak smiled.

“Surprise me.”

While the Ferengi prepared his drink, they eyed one another.

“You’re new here.”

“I am indeed,” Garak replied.

“A Cardassian on a station run by the Bajorans and the Federation. An interesting situation you’ve gotten yourself into.”

Garak took the drink, which turned out to be a simple Cardassian fruit juice that he quite liked. “You don’t know the half of it.”

As they eyed one another, an understanding of character grew between them. Men like them, regardless of where they came from, could find each other anywhere.

“My name is Quark. If you need anything at all, I’m the one who can get it for you.”

Garak inclined his head. “Garak. Pleased to meet you.”

Quark slowly wiped a glass with a cloth and Garak observed the foot traffic in the bar, a combination of gamblers, off-duty officers, and travelers. Garak was impressed with the business the Ferengi was doing here and how many different types of people this place served.

“You look like a man who has never had a day of fun in his life,” Quark said. “Nothing a good holoprogram can’t fix.”

“Maybe another time.”

“I know you broke into a runabout the other day. Impressive.”

Garak shrugged and took another sip of his drink.  

“So… what is it? The Syndicate? The Oval?” Quark asked, cutting right to the chase.

Garak scoffed. “As if I would work for any of those barbarians,” he responded with a small shake of his head. “No, I’m a Cardassian. Do the math.”

Quark smiled. “Obsidian Order it is, then. How’d you get out?”

“It wasn’t easy, and if it weren’t for the Federation, I’d likely be dead. But don’t tell anyone I said that.”

Quark refilled his glass. “Owing your life to the Federation… I don’t envy you.”

“As soon as I’m done testifying on Cardassia, I’m free. Surviving that long shouldn’t be a problem.”

Quark gave him a strange look. “You realize you won’t be done with the Federation after all this? You won’t be able to go back to Cardassia. No one who squeals on the mob goes back home and lives a normal life. You’ll be stuck in Federation space, and once you testify, the special treatment is going to end. They’ll arrest you if you break their laws instead of sending their pretty Intelligence officer to break you out.”

“You know a lot about this Witness Protection Program?” Garak asked. He could feel something cold and hopeless beginning to settle in his chest. Yes, he had known his life would change drastically after leaving the Order and Cardassia, but he hadn’t truly realized how much. His decision to leave had been to save his own life, and now the consequences were beginning to line up.

“I’ve been in contact with a few people, over the years,” Quark responded. “Now, I’m not saying all the fun will end. In fact, I enjoy life on this station. You just have to know how to do it.”

Garak eyed the little Ferengi critically. He was already chomping at the bit in boredom. Organizing an illegal shipment or two would be just the entertainment he needed. “Do you have anything specific in mind?” Garak asked, and he watched a smile spread on Quark’s face. 

“Meet me here tomorrow night,” Quark said. “I’ll have a data rod prepared.”

 

“Oh, that’s not good at all!” Julian exclaimed as he and Miles watched Quark and Garak interact. Julian had left Garak to his own devices most of the day and had only run into him here at Quark’s by chance. “Garak’s been bending the rules his entire life, and Quark is going to help him get right back into it. I’m sure Quark is drooling at the thought of having someone like Garak at his disposal.”

Miles furrowed his brows in contemplation. “Are you sure that’s what they’re doing over there? They could be talking about how disgusting root beer is. I’ve heard Quark complain about it to every non-Federation that sits down at that bar.”

“Miles, look at the way Quark is smiling. There’s no way that whatever is happening over there is all in innocent fun. Garak’s already been arrested once in the three days he’s been here. The man lives and breathes crime.”

“Well, it’s not illegal to have a conversation. Until he starts actively doing something wrong, you don’t have anything to worry about.” Miles pointed at Julian’s drink. “That’s gonna get warm if you don’t drink it.”

Julian sighed and took a sip of his synthale. “If Garak starts helping Quark sell fake watches, it’ll be your fault.”

“You know, if I were Garak I’d probably seek Quark out as well,” Miles said conversationally. “He’s non-Federation, he’s involved in some shady business, and he talks frankly when you want him to. I personally don’t trust the guy, but I can see why Garak might go to him.”

“Yeah, it makes sense, but it doesn’t mean I have to be happy about it. Makes my job harder.”

Miles shrugged. “It’s fun to actually know what your job is for once. No more ‘you know I can’t tell you, Miles,’ and ‘stop asking classified questions, Miles.’”

“Honestly, this is the most straightforward mission I’ve had in a while. ‘Keep the witness safe.’ That’s all there is to it.”

“You’re like a glorified bodyguard,” Miles said with a smile.

“I’m going to Cardassia in a few weeks, Miles.  _Cardassia._ Can you imagine?” Much of Julian’s job in the past few years had revolved around relations between the Federation, Bajor, and Cardassia, but Julian had never set foot on Cardassia. He had seen holoimages and read all about it, but he had never actually been there. Julian wanted to feel the heat and see the people and immerse himself in the language. Brand new planets were one of Julian’s favorite parts of space travel.

“It’s not at the top of my list of places to visit,” Miles responded, “but I’m sure it will be interesting.”

“You’re just weird about Cardassians,” Julian responded without venom.

“Julian, that place has an average dry season temperature of 42 standard degrees! That’s horrible.”

Julian shrugged. “I spent half my childhood in a desert.” His gaze caught on Garak over Miles’ shoulder. Quark had moved off to help some other customers, leaving Garak alone at the bar. There was a thoughtful expression on his face, and Julian really didn’t like the look of it.

“Miles, I’ll be right back.”

Miles blinked at him. “Please tell me you’re not going to go bother the Cardassian. Come on, Julian.”

Julian ignored him and navigated through the crowd of dabo players to get to the bar. He stopped behind Garak’s barstool. “Hello, Garak.”

Garak turned his gaze upward. “Hello, Julian. How are you this evening?”

“I’m doing well.” Julian shifted in place and silently apologized to Miles for this. “Would you like to join my friend and me at the table in the back? It’s a bit quieter, and I thought you might appreciate some company.”

“I would be delighted,” Garak responded and stood up from his barstool. Julian led him to where they were sitting.

When Miles looked up and saw Julian had Garak in tow, his mouth twisted, but he remained silent.

“I invited Garak to join us,” Julian explained. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“Of course not,” Miles responded, and Julian was really going to have to give him some acting tips if he wanted to fool anyone.

Garak didn’t seem to mind Miles’ thinly-veiled discomfort and took the extra seat at their table. “Thank you for letting me join you,” Garak said with a smile. “I was about to retire to my quarters and try to find something to read, even though it seems everything Cardassian has been wiped from your computers.”

Julian perked up. “Do you need book suggestions? I don’t know any Cardassian novels, but I’m well-versed in all the Human classics.”

“I might just take you up on that,” Garak responded. “You can learn a lot about a species from their writing.”

Julian was surprised how easy it was to jump into a conversation about literature with Garak. Most people Julian talked to appreciated books but didn’t enjoy the kind of debate that Julian tried to push them into. Garak kept up with him, and even though they hadn’t read any of the same books, they easily debated the purpose of literature.

Julian could see Miles nodding off beside them, but Julian hadn’t been a part of such engaging conversation in a long time, and Garak seemed to be just as entertained. 

"Some of Earth's greatest works are tragedies, but you have to give them a meaning other than 'devote yourself to the state and it’s worth it' for people to digest them on Earth."

"Truly? You humans are barbaric, aren't you?"

"No, you don’t understand! Okay, how about this?" Julian said. "You read a book that I choose for you and I read a Cardassian one that you choose for me. I can get ahold of a Cardassian novel, just say the word.”

Garak's gaze had a mischievous glint in it. "That sounds like a wonderful idea."

Hopefully, this would help to keep Garak at least a little distracted from whatever illegal schemes Quark wanted to get him involved in. A bored criminal was a dangerous one, and this space station was a small, enclosed space that they were all stuck on together. Odo would catch them both very quickly if they decided to get up to anything unsavory, and then it would be Julian's problem.

"It has been wonderful talking to you, Julian, but I must retire for the evening. Your friend here looks like he could use some sleep as well," Garak said, placing a hand on Julian's forearm and shooting a glance at Miles, who was asleep on his folded arms. "We will exchange books tomorrow."

"Sounds great, Garak. Sleep well."

Garak stood and left Julian and Miles alone at their table.

Julian shook Miles gently. "Come on, wake up before Quark starts to charge us lodging fees."

Miles jerked awake. “Did Garak leave?”

“Yes, and it’s time for us to leave as well.” Julian coaxed Miles to his feet and they made their way out of Quark’s.

“You talked to him for over an hour,” Miles said around a large yawn. “Who’d have thought you had interests in common with a Cardassian mobster?”

“He’s actually pretty charming when you talk to him. Not that you would ever want to talk to him.”

“I’ll leave that to you, Julian.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Goodnight, Miles.” They parted ways, and Julian went to his quarters and stayed up late thinking about Cardassian culture and a whole new world of literature that Julian had never entered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're curious about the mowing scene, [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wOmWxIvK2Do) is the scene from the movie where Vinny (Garak's character) mows the lawn in a suit.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Julian realizes that he probably had too much faith in Garak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On this day (May 13, 2019) the DS9 documentary validated Garak/Bashir--Andy Robinson said Garak wanted to have sex with Bashir from the very beginning and Ira Behr said that DS9 didn't handle sexuality the way it should have and that Garak should have been gay and had a relationship with Bashir. 
> 
> So, in honor of all of that, here is chapter 4.

Julian woke to his comm buzzing. Trying to blink himself awake, he pressed the badge on the side table. “Bashir here.”

“Julian!” came Miles’ voice. “There’s something you need to see.” 

“Computer, time.”

_ “The time is 0300 hours.” _

“Ugh, where are you?” Julian asked. 

“Upper pylon three.”

Julian tugged on a jacket and trudged his way through darkened corridors to upper pylon three, hoping that whatever this was would be quick. 

Miles was standing in front of one of the access panels, his face cast in a blue glow from the display. 

“What’s going on, Miles?” Julian asked. 

“Someone is accessing the station files illegally. I only noticed it because I was doing a complete computer sweep and came across some weird signatures. Realized what it was when I looked closer.”

“Do you know who it is?” Julian asked, coming to stand beside Miles and squinting at the display.

“The only thing I know is that they’re on the station. I thought you would be the best person to help me isolate the hacker quickly. There’s a chance we have a spy.”

Julian gave Miles a look. “Miles, you know Sisko is the first person who should be alerted in a situation like this.”

“By the time I woke him, the hacker could have been gone already. I thought it would be much quicker to let you know first, and then go to Sisko.”

Julian sighed and reached over Miles’ shoulder to access the display. Miles stepped back to allow him room. Julian thanked his intelligence training that he was able to chase the hacker’s signature as quickly as he could. He was amazed by the talent that this hacker had, able to pull out of the system at remarkable speeds with barely a trace. 

“Whoever this is knows their stuff.”

“That’s what  _ I  _ thought,” Miles responded. 

“Aha!” Julian crowed. “Gotcha.” Julian was able to snag the console location that the person was accessing to get into the system, and with a sinking heart, Julian realized which room the hacker was in. 

“So, did we catch a spy?” Miles asked eagerly. 

Julian shook his head and pointed to the console number. “We’ve caught a spy we already have.” 

Miles squinted at it. “That Cardassian, huh?”

“Evidently we didn’t provide him with enough reading material,” Julian said. “I’ll go have a talk with him.” He closed Garak out of the system and hoped that it would be enough. 

“He could get in big trouble for this if Odo or Kira found out,” Miles said, and he closed up the wall panel. “He’s already trespassed on Starfleet property.” 

“I know. I’ll talk to him.” Julian left Miles to his late-night maintenance and made his way through the darkened halls to the habitat ring. 

Garak was wearing a silk robe when he answered the door, but his gaze was clear.

“Garak. You can’t be hacking into the classified Starfleet files,” Julian said, getting right to the point.  

“Me?”

“Yes, you. Believe it or not, I know how to work the computer systems, and you may be a good hacker, but I was able to track which console you were using. Garak, Federation laws are not optional, and unless you’re trying to get yourself killed, you need to stop breaking them.” 

Garak dipped his head. “I understand. It was my fault for being detectable.”

“Garak!”

There was a glint in Garak’s gaze when he met Julian’s. “Don’t worry. There are some behaviors that have stuck with me, and I’m working on unlearning them. I promise I will do better.”

Julian narrowed his eyes. “I’m going to bed. Don’t hack into Starfleet files.”

“Of course,” Garak said, and it made Julian want to pinch the bridge of his nose, but he waited until the doors of Garak’s quarters slid shut to indulge in that behavior. 

After the hacking incident, things were quiet for a few days. Julian and Garak began meeting for lunch to discuss the books they had traded. Julian kept tabs on Garak, of course, but he didn’t keep an incredibly tight leash on him. It seemed as though Garak was on his best behavior--not even Odo had come forward with anything. Julian was a bit bored, but he continued to do his paperwork and hoped that it stayed quiet until they left for Cardassia. 

“You must be joking!” Julian exclaimed. “You are  _ not  _ meant to side with the French monarchy in  _ Les Miserables _ !”

“Yes, but the intended audience was not Cardassian, was it? Cardassians and their government have a different relationship than humans have with theirs.” 

Garak could have been telling him about the way paint dried and Julian would have still sat there and listened to him. He had a way of speaking that made you want to believe him, despite knowing the likelihood that he was lying. Julian enjoyed arguing with him because it made Garak become more and more insistent, and Julian enjoyed it. 

“How are you liking  _ The Grey Waters  _ so far?” Garak asked. 

“The main character is a bit narrow-minded, but his motivations are clear,” Julian responded. 

“Narrow-minded. What a Federation concept,” Garak said with a theatrical shudder. “Cardassians know what they need to know and they use it in the way they need to use it.”

“You don’t consider change to be an important part of Cardassian society? Aren’t you helping to rid Cardassia of the Order?” Julian asked in a much lower voice.

“It is not as simple as that, my dear.”

“You could always try explaining it to me. I’m sure I can handle it. I do actually know a bit about Cardassian culture.” 

Garak sighed. “In Cardassian society, devotion to the state is more important than anything else in our lives. “

“Yes, but if the state is corrupt or ineffective?”

“If a group is effective in seizing power and making change, then they are in the right. If they fail to make change, then they are in the wrong. It’s as simple as that.”

Julian swallowed his bite of food. “So you’re saying if you win, you’re right?”

Garak nodded. “If the ragtag group of French students had not all died, then I might have agreed with them, but they were unsuccessful and therefore deserved what happened to them.” 

Julian had no way of telling if this was something Garak truly believed or if he was just pulling on Julian’s leg. There was a high chance of both, and since Garak said everything with the same weird tone, there was no way to decipher between the true statements and the false ones. It should have been annoying, but Julian found it drew him in. 

“So how would you describe what the Obsidian Order does, then?” Julian asked. “They’re breaking laws left and right! How do you justify that?”

“They get away with it, don’t they?” Garak asked. “If I succeed in giving their names to the Central Command and the Central Command destroys them? Then they have failed.”

Julian chewed on this idea for a moment and though he found it preposterous, it did have a certain clean certainty to it. 

“You’ve never told me why you defected in the first place,” Julian said. “I know there was something about a mission gone wrong, but that’s all I know.”

“I suppose you deserve to know,” Garak said, and he set down his mug. “Very well. There was a large shipment of building supplies headed to the capital city, and the Obsidian Order was planning to hijack it. A particularly large shipment can bring in enough funds to keep the Order going for months, and this one was promising. Building supplies are incredibly valuable on Cardassia.” Garak smiled wistfully.

“When they discovered that this shipment was in fact headed to the outer part of the city to be used in a public housing project, they understandably got antsy about it. Public opinion of the Order has been dipping substantially, and the public had already been hemming and hawing about the public funds going into this housing project. Stealing the supplies would not paint the Order in a good light. It had been a long day already, and many of us were ready to go home and either prepare for the hijacking or simply go to bed.” Garak sighed. “The boss decided the hijacking wasn’t a good idea and called the mission off. I was a trusted leader in the Order, and I had a steady following of men who were willing to do my bidding. I decided that we needed the money more than we needed the public opinion, so I gathered a group and we carried out the hijacking anyway. I thought the boss would appreciate it once the money rolled in, but I was wrong. I had to escape to Federation space or I would have been killed.”

Julian blinked, and felt his heart sink. Garak’s decision to leave the Obsidian Order was based entirely on self-preservation. 

But then Julian noticed the twinkle in Garak’s eye, incongruent with the story he had just told. 

Julian narrowed his eyes. “That isn’t true at all, is it?” Julian asked with a frown. 

“’Not true at all’ is never the case, my dear. There’s truth in everything.”

Julian crossed his arms. “I’ll find out eventually.”

Garak raised his brow ridges. “I’m sure you will.”

 

Deep Space Nine was no Cardassia City, and Garak missed his home planet dearly, but it had its own fair share of interesting activity. Garak soon learned that Quark had many operations running at once, and though Odo cracked down on some of them, there were other schemes that Odo had no idea existed. Quark’s most recent plan was to hijack a shipment of expensive fabric to resell to interested parties. Quark may have had a talent for this sort of thing, but he was no match for a man who had been born into organized crime on a planet with a military state. 

Though Garak had agreed to expose the Order for murder, he was still a man of crime at heart and didn’t see the harm in a little theft to keep him sharp. Quark had already invited him to a few other minor operations involving minor engineering equipment, but this was a big operation that Garak was looking forward to. 

Garak snuck his way to docking bay seven at 2100 hours that night. DS9 was not quite the streets of a dark city with all its alleys and shadowy corners, but it was poorly lit at night and allowed Garak to creep through the docking ring with relative ease. Odo’s men were well trained, but Garak was still able to skirt around them and made it to the correct docking bay with no trouble. 

Quark had asked him his proficiency in forging signatures and altering shipping manifests, and Garak had answered truthfully: he was very, very good at it. There was to be a large shipment of various goods coming into DS9 in a small cargo ship to be transferred to a larger cargo ship heading into Federation space. Garak’s job was to alter the shipping manifest to make sure the person who checked the transfer would not notice that two large shipping boxes of expensive silk were missing. 

Garak changed the shipping manifests with ease. Now was the hands-on part, which Garak had asked to join in on, even though Quark’s men were likely just as good at it as he was. 

Quark and two of his men were there when Garak showed up, and soon they had their hands deep in the shipment of fabrics, transferring them to moving pallets which they would then transfer one docking bay over to a freighter that was headed for Ferenginar. It was a simple switch, and Garak could already feel the electric thrill of a job done cleanly. The fabric was of incredibly good quality and would bring them a nice profit. 

Quark stiffened in his position leaning over the shipment crate next to Garak and let out a string of curses that the Universal Translator didn’t catch. Garak wasn’t sure what was going on until there was a movement in the corner of his eye. 

It was Odo, solidifying into his humanoid shape. “Hello, gentlemen,” he said as he crossed his arms and gave them an unimpressed glare. 

“Odo!” Quark squawked. “We were just—”

“Stealing,” Odo finished. “Tell me, gentlemen, what’s in the boxes?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Quark exclaimed, puffing his chest out. 

Odo stepped forward and opened the box lid. “Andorian silk. How interesting.”

“Hey!” Quark shouted. 

“You are all coming with me.” Two of Odo’s security officers stepped up beside him and ushered Garak, Quark, and the two Ferengi out of the docking bay. 

“You have the wrong impression of this situation,” Garak said and watched Odo roll his eyes. 

“I don’t want to hear it, Garak. I’m sure you have some wonderful excuse for why you’re unloading cargo in a docking bay in the middle of the night, but it can wait until we’re in the security office.”

Garak didn’t understand where they had gone wrong. They had been meticulous about keeping their plans hidden, they had memorized the security watch patterns, and Garak was certain he had not been followed here. His editing of the shipping manifest was perhaps the cleanest he had done in years. The only explanation was that one of Quark’s men had let something slip. This wouldn’t have happened had Garak been doing this job for the Order, and that thought grew sharper and sharper as they were marched through the corridors and towards the security office. 

“Fabrics, Quark, really?” Odo asked as he shoved them into holding cells and activated the security field. “This is a new level of dull, even for you.”

Quark crossed his arms and stared through the shimmering field. “I’ll have you know there’s good money in fabrics. And Garak here knows a lot about them. But I tell you, Odo, you have all of this wrong!”

Odo turned to Garak’s holding cell. “Tell me. How have I greatly misunderstood the group of you rifling through a fabric shipment in the middle of the night?”

Garak started pulling the threads of his story around him. He didn’t need to convince Odo, but he needed to buy some time and perhaps a little exasperation. 

“I can explain the fabric perfectly, Constable.”

Odo narrowed his eyes. “Oh? Do enlighten me.”

Garak raised his brows. “I won the fabric in a contest, you see. I didn’t realize that the contest was for those who work in clothing production and that the prize was a shipment of expensive fabric, but one doesn’t act ungrateful when one receives a prize. I have been so busy learning my way around this station that I completely forgot about the fabric, and since Quark was up at this late hour I asked him to help me unload it.”

Garak could tell Odo wasn’t taking the bait, judging by his unimpressed expression. He rolled his eyes and lifted the reader in his hand. “This is not the first shipment to be misplaced this week. Tell me, Garak, what is a shipment of self-sealing stem bolts doing in cargo bay seven?”

Garak lifted his chin. “A gift from a friend of mine. You see, he realized how lonely I would be out here, and he figured out how to send those bolts to me without alerting the Order. Stem bolts… remind me of home.”

“Garak, self-sealing stem bolts are used only in spacecraft!”

“And a handful of small Cardassian appliances! You would be surprised how well heavy-duty spacecraft parts work in the design of a household sonic washer. My father was quite a mechanic. You wouldn’t believe how many of our neighbors clamored to buy appliances that he had improved.”

Odo let out a growl of frustration. “I’m sure it won’t surprise you to know that the self-sealing stembolts were part of a shipment headed for Andoria that was hijacked last week.” 

Garak pressed his hand to his chest in mock surprise. “You don’t say! I feel terrible! I’ll be having a stern conversation with my friend when I come out of witness protection. To think a good friend of mine would gift me stolen goods! How terrible.”

Odo opened his mouth to respond when he was interrupted by the entrance of the man Garak most wanted to see. 

“Agent Bashir,” Odo said, turning to him. “Your witness—”

“Will be coming with me,” Julian interrupted. 

“Not this time, Agent,” Odo responded. “He has in his possession enough contraband to—”

“You can’t legally hold him here, Constable. Starfleet regulation shows that you did not have enough probable cause to look inside their shipping crates, and thus, you have no reason to be holding a man under Starfleet protection.”

Julian stepped up to the holding cell and for the second time since Garak had known him, lowered the containment field. “Come on, Garak.” He grabbed Garak’s sleeve and started tugging him towards the exit. 

“You know that is not true, Bashir. Seeing them rifling through crates in the middle of the night is suspicious enough to warrant a search. You have no right to take him.”

Bashir shot him a sympathetic look. “I do in fact have the right,” Julian responded.

“Wait! What about me?” Quark asked. 

“Sorry, Quark, but I’m sure Odo can figure out his reasons for holding you,” Julian replied, and Quark’s eyes went comically wide. 

“This is an outrage!” Quark exclaimed. 

“For the first time in history, I agree with Quark,” Odo said, and he followed them out of the security office. “I will have Garak for this, one way or another, Agent Bashir. Once he is done with this case, I will see that he answers for his crimes.”

Garak winked at Odo. 

“Come on, Constable, please. This is Starfleet and Starfleet Intelligence protocol. I’m sorry you’re getting wrapped up in it, but that’s the way it goes.”

“Don’t fret, Constable,” Garak added with a smile. “Someday we will all find this hilarious.” 

They lingered outside the security office, and Odo crossed his arms. “I don’t find much funny, Garak, especially not situations where criminals walk free due to a failure in protocol.”

Julian sighed. “I’m sorry, Odo, I really am.”

Odo stared at them as Julian dragged Garak off the promenade and into his personal office. 

“Garak, this is getting ridiculous,” he said after the doors had slid shut, closing them off from the clamor of the promenade. “I can’t keep breaking you out from a holding cell because you can’t control yourself.”

“Considering how much the Federation and Cardassia needs my information, I’d say you  _ will  _ keep breaking me out of the security office.”

“I shouldn’t have to, Garak. The trial isn’t that far away. It can’t be that hard for you to keep your head down until then! You have everything you need here. There’s no reason for you to be getting wrapped up in Quark’s schemes. A Ferengi, Garak! Really?”

“Quark is a man after my own heart. I wouldn’t ask you to understand.”

Julian let out a gusty sigh and leaned on the edge of his desk. “Garak, I am doing everything I can to make this stay as easy for you as possible. I’m fielding all questions station residents have about you, I’m helping Captain Sisko deal with that Dukat guy, which is not easy, let me tell you, and I have done everything possible to make sure there is no trace of your presence to anyone outside of this station.” Julian’s face was earnest, and it would have been very endearing if it wasn’t also annoying. “The least you could do is try not to get arrested.”

“If you absolutely insist, I will stop breaking laws while on the station,” Garak responded, and he watched Julian’s face relax. “I’m grateful for everything you’re doing for me, and I’d hate to make you think I’m being difficult on purpose.”

“You’ve been hijacking shipments, Garak. How is that not making things difficult for me?”

“I was born into that work. It’s second nature to me. I suppose I barely even realized that what I was doing has no place here on a Federation-controlled station.”

“Just don’t do it again, okay?” Julian shook his head and then sighed. “While I’ve got you here, I have news. I just received word that the trial will be next week on Cardassia Prime. Before the trial, you’ll be meeting with investigators to discuss what you know.” 

Garak’s ache for the heat of Cardassia Prime flared. He would be going  _ home _ next week. “That is wonderful!”

“We’re going to have to go over some ground rules for when we’re there, to make sure you stay safe while you’re among your people.”

“I’m a master of blending in. I’ll be fine.”

“That’s all well and good, Garak, but we have policies that we both have to follow. It’s late, and I want to sleep, so let’s plan to meet here tomorrow afternoon.”

Garak beamed. “Of course, my dear.” He got up to leave Julian’s office. 

“See you tomorrow, Garak.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Julian and Garak travel to Cardassia Prime for the trial.

Garak wasn’t looking at him as he explained what was going to happen when they got to Cardassia Prime, but Julian wasn’t letting that deter him. He was sure Garak was listening, even if he seemed to be preoccupied with examining the clutter on Julian’s desk. Julian had learned that Garak’s disinterest was usually carefully constructed.

“You won’t talk to anyone, you won’t make eye contact with anyone for too long. If anyone looks like they might recognize you, let me know and we will move quickly along.” Julian leaned over the desk to get closer to Garak to really hammer his point home. “You will _not_ be meeting up with anyone you know. Do you understand?”

“Of course I understand,” Garak replied, raising an eye ridge. “A dreadfully boring trip, if you ask me.”

Julian leaned back in his desk chair and sighed. “Boring is better than dead.”

“Maybe for you. Now if that’s all?”

Julian sighed. “You’re free to go. Meet me at docking bay three at 0800 tomorrow morning.”

Garak dipped his chin. “Sleep well, Agent Bashir.”

Julian nodded, though he knew he would not be getting much sleep that night. They had a stressful few days ahead of them.

 

Julian arrived at the docking port fifteen minutes early and was surprised to see that Garak was already there, bag slung over his shoulder and reading something on a PADD as he leaned against the wall. He looked up as Julian approached and a smile grew on his face. “Good morning, Julian.”

Julian adjusted the strap on his shoulder. Julian wasn’t very good at packing, and his bag was heavier than he wanted it to be. He always ended up over-packing, but it was better than the alternative. “Good morning, Garak.”

Garak’s gaze lingered on the suit Julian was wearing, and Julian shifted uncomfortably at the attention. Garak didn’t say anything, but Julian got the feeling that he had been judged for the grey fabric.

“I must say, I am surprised we are taking a public transport and not a runabout,” Garak said as he tucked the reader in the side pocket of his bag. “I thought being a part of Starfleet’s witness protection program would grant me a bit more luxury than it has.”

“We can’t draw too much attention to ourselves. A Starfleet runabout orbiting Cardassia Prime would be way too overt.”

“You’re right, of course,” Garak replied. “I never expected Starfleet to use so much restraint.”

“Starfleet Intelligence, Garak.”

The airlock hissed open and a ragtag group of travelers trickled through onto the station. This was one of the things that Julian enjoyed so much about living on DS9: there were always new people, all with different destinations. The station was never stagnant.

The rest of the passengers eventually cleared off of the transport, and then the crowd that was collecting to board the ship was allowed to enter. Julian gave his thumbprint to the transport pilot, who let both Garak and Julian board. His readout would be showing tickets for Julian Bashir, a Starfleet ensign on an errand, and Tolar Ganek, a man with no visible occupation on his ID card. Nothing that would make a transport pilot suspicious.

Julian had reserved a sleeper compartment for the two of them, and as the transport prepared to undock, they settled in for the three-day journey. It would have been faster to take a runabout, but Julian was okay with a longer trip if it meant less attention.

“I hope you brought plenty to read,” Julian said as he tucked his bag under his bunk.

“I have been reading _Of Mice and Men_ and I have some comments.”

Julian perked up. “Oh, wonderful! I just finished _The Never Ending Sacrifice._ ” It had been both infuriating and a wonderful look into Cardassian society. The novel encouraged devotion to the state to the point of destruction, and Julian was eager to speak to Garak to see how much he bought into that idea. Julian knew there was a large portion of Cardassian society that would agree with the author as well as those who did not. Garak had spent most of his life breaking the law, but Julian wondered how much of it he rationalized.

“Indeed!” Garak exclaimed. “I want to know what you thought of it.”

“Over dinner?” Julian asked.

 

Traveling by public transport was one of Julian’s least favorite methods of transportation, but it wasn’t too terrible when Garak was his traveling companion. The man greeted every stranger brightly and entertained Julian with wild stories that Julian was fairly certain were untrue.

“Did you see that man?” Garak said as they walked side-by-side down the narrow hall to the mess hall. The man in question had been a tall human in a bland suit with a tired expression that they had run into a few times since being on the transport.

“I saw him, yes,” Julian responded.

“He’s been watching the two of us, if you haven’t noticed, though judging by the way your eyes lingered on him and the tension in your body changed when we passed him, I’d say you _have_ noticed.”

Julian sighed. “Yes, I have noticed, but I ran a check on him. He’s a businessman. Nothing fishy. He’s probably just staring at us because we make a strange pair.”

Garak gave Julian a small grin. “I could tell his innocence without having to run a background check. A man who was interested in catching us off guard would never stare in that manner, and I can tell by the way he holds himself that he has no formal training.”

“Well, even so, running a background check is always a good idea,” Julian shot back. He was not interested in Garak proving how he was better at Julian’s job than Julian was. “And Garak, how many humans have you met in your life?”

Garak relented. “I just wanted to see if Starfleet Intelligence trained their operatives in a similar way to the Order.”

Julian side-eyed an unbothered Garak and wondered what Order training looked like. The organization was similar to organized crime on Earth, but it had a sharper, more refined edge than a lot of the mobs Julian had read about.

The subject dropped as they ordered their drinks from the replicators and found a seat.

“Tell me, Julian,” Garak said over his cup of tea. “What led you to a life of Intelligence?” The mess hall was filled with enough ambient noise that they didn’t need to whisper to avoid being overheard.

“It’s a long story,” Julian replied.

“The life of an intelligence officer is an interesting choice for a man who was on track to become a doctor, don’t you think?”

Julian nearly spilled his drink when his elbow slipped off the edge of the table. “ _Garak._ ” He hissed.

“What?”

“My enrollment at Starfleet Medical is classified information!”

“And I wonder why. Why does a man take two years of medical courses and then drop out after being on a clear path to valedictorian?”

“Garak, how did you have time to get so deep into Starfleet’s classified files?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean.” His innocence was not at all convincing.

Julian rubbed the back of his neck with a weary sigh. “It really is a long story, and one I’d rather not share.”

“I could always tell you about my own past if that would even things up,” Garak replied.

“How would I know you’re not just making the story up?”

Garak rested a hand on his chest in mock hurt. “My stories always contain the truth, and I’m appalled that you would suggest otherwise.”

“Containing the truth is not the same as being true, Garak, and you know that.”

“Maybe to a human that’s the case, but Cardassians are different. In any case, I should give you a more accurate tale of why I had to defect from the Order.”

Julian’s focus sharpened.

“My job was to rig a minor election to the Detapa Council. I was rather bored with the task, and it had already been a long day by the time my window to alter the votes in the system came along. I began to wonder what it would be like to let things run their course, what would happen if I just didn’t do my job. By the time I had finished daydreaming about the scenario, my time was up. The votes went through unaltered, and the wrong man won. I fled Cardassia the next day, already feeling the tendrils of the Order reaching out to snag me for my failure.”

Julian watched him closely and realized it was much more difficult to tell if any of this was the truth. It was better than the first story, but it was also much more anticlimactic than Julian had expected. Did the Order truly react so violently when a member failed one mission? Julian pondered this as they finished their drinks.

Garak didn’t bring up Julian’s past again the rest of their journey to Cardassia, and for that Julian was grateful. It allowed him to sharpen his focus on Garak’s safety and prepare himself for what they would experience on Cardassia. He was excited, but he was also anxious. Cardassians were known for being ruthless, and their justice system was much less concerned with justice than it was with order. Luckily, in this case, the Obsidian Order was a threat to the peace of the Cardassian people, and Garak was only going to help them figure out exactly who to arrest.

The transport was going through its docking procedures when Julian received a message with much more detailed information about the next few days. “The meeting with the investigators will be tomorrow,” Julian told Garak as they finished packing up their things. “The investigators will decide if there is enough to go on, and if there is, the guilty parties will be arrested. You’ve seen enough Cardassian trials to know what happens from there.” Julian had always thought Cardassian jurisprudence to be incredibly backward, but there was nothing he could do about it. They would have to play the system to the best of their ability.

“Will I have time to meet my tailor?” Garak asked. “I told her I would meet her while I was on Cardassia Prime.”

“Your tailor?” Julian asked with a scoff. “Garak, I told you not to meet up with anyone you know while you’re here!”

“I have been desperate for better clothing, Julian. Surely you won’t deny me this?”

They were following the crowd out of the transport and through the airlock into the Cardassian port, and Julian could feel his frustration growing despite his curiosity about his surroundings. “It’s my job to deny you that! You will _not_ be meeting your tailor. There are clothing replicators on the station.”

“That’s why your clothing fits you the way it does!” Garak exclaimed. “Your suit for example. It’s easy to tell it’s replicated. It fits, in theory, but the replicator has no finesse at all when it comes to making sure a piece of clothing hugs the body the way it should.”

“You’ll find a new tailor, then. You can’t reconnect with people you know, Garak. No wa—”

Julian cut off as Garak stopped in his tracks and let out a small gasp.

“Garak, what….”

Garak was staring straight ahead of him, his eyes wide. Julian followed his gaze and saw a small group of Cardassians standing still in the middle of the sea of quickly-moving travelers. The grey-haired woman in the middle of the group was making somber eye contact with Garak, and the corners of her mouth tightened in what appeared to be mild disappointment.

“Elim, I swear to the great Guls, if you don’t get over here and give your mother a hug, I’ll disown you.”

Julian grabbed Garak’s arm. “That’s your _mother_? Garak!”

“Mila!” Garak gasped, a slow smile spreading on his face as if Julian hadn’t said anything.

“It’s been far too long since I’ve heard from you, and all you can say to me is ‘Mila?’”

“Julian, please allow me to greet my mother,” Garak said quietly, turning to him with a pleading expression.

“Garak, I can’t”

“Please, Julian, don’t make me look like a criminal in front of my mother.”

Confronted with Garak’s urgent expression and the way he kept glancing at his mother, Julian’s resolve crumbled. He had never seen Garak look like this, and he could only imagine the loneliness the man had felt for the past month and a half on the station. Julian took a tiny step back and allowed Garak to move forward to greet the small group of expectant Cardassians. Garak was immediately pulled into his mother’s arms as the surrounding Cardassians chattered amongst themselves.

Julian followed and stood on the edge of the group, feeling awkward.

Garak turned. “Mila, this is Julian Bashir. He’s a good friend of mine.”

Julian gave a stiff little smile as the formidable woman looked him over.

“A human, Garak? He’s so scrawny.”

Julian tried not to squirm and halted the protest on his lips. Mila was intense, with bright blue eyes that matched Garak’s, and a strong frame that looked like it had lived through years of labor. She was tough, and Julian was sure she could take him in a fight. She was also looking at Julian like he was a large bug that had gotten into the house.

“Mother, don’t be rude. He’s a good man.”

“I’m sure he is,” she said with a slight curl of her upper lip. She removed her arm from around Garak’s shoulders to gesture at the two Cardassian women standing next to her. “Julian, this is Tera and Reana. They are Garak’s distant cousins.”

They both stepped forward to greet Julian, and he was quickly lost in the hubbub of Cardassians asking him questions about where he was from and what his job was and correcting one another’s introductions of each other. There was no way Julian was going to remember all those Cardassian names, and he needed to get Garak away from them anyway. They had had their visit, and now they needed to go back into isolation before someone from the Order found them and decided to have Garak killed.

“Garak?” He had lost sight of Garak in the cluster of Cardassians. “Garak?” Julian tried to push around them, but they were resisting him.

He made eye contact with Mila, who gave him a cold grin. “You Federations are all the same,” she said in a low tone. “So gullible. So soft.”

Everyone had gone very still. Realization dropped coldly in Julian’s chest.

“Damnit!” He pushed his way out of Garak’s family, if they were even his family at all, and looked wildly around the bustling port, but Garak was nowhere to be seen. They had been on Cardassia for not even ten minutes, and Julian had already lost track of the one Cardassian he was supposed to watch. This was outrageous.

Julian left Garak’s supposed family behind, knowing that he would find no help there. He adjusted his bag on his shoulder and made his way out of the port and into the baking afternoon. The port was located on the edge of the city, but Julian had booked their hotel on the edge of the Tarlak sector, where the investigation and trial were being held.

Julian decided he’d check into the hotel, and then he’d go looking for Garak. No sense in hauling his bag around in circles during the blistering midday.

As soon as he stepped out of the port and into the Cardassian sunlight, the oppressive heat made it difficult to breathe. It was like being trapped in a hot vehicle on a summer day on Earth. The Cardassian atmosphere turned the sunlight hazy and dim, and it took Julian a moment to be able to see his surroundings clearly. When he did, he saw a bustling street with odd curved buildings and Cardassians dressed in dark colors moving quickly to their destinations.

Julian recognized the signs of a militarized government very quickly. The number of men in military uniforms that were patrolling the street was enough to make Julian nervous. He was the only non-Cardassian in the vicinity, and so he was quick to retreat into the shadows of a building to observe and decide how he would navigate to his hotel. Julian had chosen his dark suit on purpose, but there wasn’t much he could do about his appearance. Cardassians didn’t wear head coverings, so there was no help there. Julian was just going to have to walk with purpose. He was authorized to be here, but too much attention was not a good thing.

He had assumed that he would have a Cardassian guide, but as his guide had gone missing, Julian would have to find his own way. He entered the address of the hotel into his PADD, and once he had a good idea of where he was going, he began walking, keeping to the edge of the buildings with his head down.

“Stop!”

Julian sighed and turned to face the man in the Cardassian military uniform.

“I need to see your identification, human.”

Julian had been given a Cardassian identity unit by the government, one that said he was an important government consultant but didn’t specify what his job was. It was enough to get an officer off his back, but not enough to tip off the Obsidian Order. He handed the small metal device to the officer as the sweat turned cold on his brow. Julian hadn’t been on this kind of mission in a long time, and he was worried he was rusty enough that it would cause problems.

The Cardassian, a squat man with a square jaw and a permanent scowl, gave him a once over. “Here for official business, huh? If you were here for anything less, I’d be taking you into the Processing Center for questioning. Today’s your lucky day.”

The man handed him his ID unit back, and Julian high-tailed it, feeling sweat beading in the collar of his jacket. Hopefully, that would be his last run-in with the Cardassian military. He wasn’t in the mood to be barked at by xenophobic military men.

The hotel was a squat building on the corner of the street, matching the sprawl of brown buildings around it. Julian stepped through the front entrance and was relieved by the rush of air conditioning that touched on his sweaty face. It wasn’t quite cold enough for him, but it was better than nothing. Was this the temperature that Garak was used to? If so, the station must have been freezing for him.

Julian moved to the front desk and was greeted by a young woman with her dark hair piled on top of her head.

“Checking in?” she asked.

“Yes. Uh, Bashir is the name.”

She was actually smiling at him, which was more to say than most of the Cardassians he had made eye contact with so far. This was the one hotel that advertised to off-worlders, so maybe she was used to speaking with non-Cardassians. It was a nice change.

“Your fingerprint is coded into the door of room alpha-five. If you have any questions, don’t hesitate to message the front desk.”

Julian dipped his head. “Thank you.”

The room was small, but it had two beds and had a view of the center courtyard. It was mostly sand and rocks, but anything was better than colorless brick. Julian set his bag on the bed nearest the window and tried not to let the panic of not knowing where Garak was overwhelm him. He was an intelligence officer and had been in much worse situations than this. His PADD pinged and he picked it up in curiosity.

_Dear Julian, meet me at Pelan’s Tailor Shop this afternoon at 1500 hours –Tolar Ganek_

Julian let out a heavy sigh. Had the man really wanted to see his tailor so badly that he was prepared to risk his life to do it? Julian hoped Garak didn’t get murdered by the Order before Julian caught up with him. It would be the worst botched job in Julian’s life, and it would be highly unfortunate to boot because Julian really had started to like Garak.

Julian took a sonic shower while he was waiting, happy to rinse off the grime of the day. He dressed in one of his thinner suits and prepared himself for the heat of the sun.

Feeling a little better, but still furious at Garak, Julian used his PADD to look up the tailor shop, and by the time he located it and navigated there on foot, the sun had dipped low in the sky and he was exhausted. Human bodies were not meant to withstand this climate. The shop was located in a commercial part of town, situated between a barber and a clothing store, and though the rest of the shops on the street were bustling, this one looked quiet. A small buzzer went off when Julian entered, and it took him a few moments for his eyes to adjust to the gloom. Cardassians kept their buildings dark and warm, and though Julian had better eyesight than most, it was still an adjustment.

“Julian!” Garak greeted as he stepped out from behind a rack of clothing with a stout Cardassian woman in tow.

Julian balled his hands into fists by his side, feeling his anger spike at seeing Garak’s smiling face. “You ditched me, Garak! You have the _nerve_ to—”

“Julian, this is Pelan. She’s my tailor, and she does a wonderful job.” He turned to Pelan. “I told you he was a mess, and now you can see it for yourself.” Garak reached forward and tugged on the shoulders of Julian’s suit, and Julian sputtered in irritation.

“It is truly awful,” she said in a lightly accented voice. “But it is fortunate that I am an excellent tailor.”

Julian frowned at the two of them. “I’m not here for a suit. I’m here to take Garak back with me.”

In one swift motion, Garak leaned down and tugged Julian’s pant leg up to reveal his short socks. “Look at this!”

Julian stumbled backward, but Garak placed a hand on his lower back to steady him.

Pelan scoffed at his socks, and Julian wanted to melt into the thick pile carpet.

“Julian, really. You’re a good-looking man,” Garak said, and his hand kept its place on the small of Julian’s back, big and warm. “You need clothing that fits you properly.”

Pelan held out a suit to Julian. “Special made.”

Julian squinted at the two of them. “Special made? Garak, did you send her my measurements?”

“Don’t worry about it, my dear,” Garak responded, and he took the suit from Pelan and shoved it into Julian’s chest. “Put it on.”

Julian sighed. In the face of two persistent Cardassians, there was not much Julian could do. He followed Pelan to a dressing room and closed the door. The suit wasn’t Cardassian in style, surprisingly, in a dark grey fabric that was cool to the touch. When he pulled the whole ensemble into place, he couldn’t help but admire the way he looked. The shirt was faintly geometric under the jacket, and the way it sat on his chest brought attention to his throat. His shoulders were narrow but not tiny.

He stepped out of the dressing room and Garak immediately got into his personal space to adjust the shoulders and tug at the bottom seam. He then stepped back and gave Julian a once-over that made his face heat.

“Amazing work as always, Pelan. This suits you very well, Julian. You look like a new man.”

Pelan winked at Julian over Garak’s shoulder.

In the end, Julian left with the suit, even though some part of him wished it had looked terrible so he could turn it down. Garak seemed to be appeased by his win over Julian, and he followed Julian out of the tailor’s shop with little complaint. With Garak walking beside him, Julian didn’t have to worry about Cardassian officers stopping them. Garak walked with a confidence that made most Cardassians do no more than glance their direction before looking away again. Perhaps this was why Garak was able to get away with certain crimes here that he was unsuccessful at hiding on the station.

“We’re going to go back to the hotel, and we’re going to stay there until the meeting with the prosecutors, okay?”

Garak hummed in agreement, but Julian wasn’t convinced. He was going to keep a close eye on Garak. Here on the streets of Cardassia City, Julian was no match for a Cardassian like Garak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Catch up with me on [tumblr](https://sareks.tumblr.com)
> 
> [Here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=awSK7KTNjo8) is the iconic airport scene the scene with Mila is based off of.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Duplicity, dancing, and Cardassian jurisprudence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter got a bit long, but here you go

As soon as they entered the hotel room, Garak set his bag down on the bed and began pulling clothing out and hanging it up in the closet with great care. Julian was beginning to get hungry and started poking around on the replicator set into the wall in the tiny kitchenette. Julian had specifically looked for a hotel with replicators so they wouldn’t have to venture out to find food.

“Do you want me to replicate anything for you?” Julian asked. He was flipping through the Cardassian fare, eager to try something new and interested to see what Garak liked to eat.

Garak turned around to look at him and his expression shifted into a frown. “You’re crouching in your brand new pants!”

“Yes?”

“You’re going to wrinkle them! That’s the most expensive suit you’ve ever owned and you’re crouching in it like some sort of common thug!”

Julian squinted up at him. “So I’m supposed to stand around and do nothing else? Garak, I’m an Intelligence officer. A suit you can’t move around in isn’t practical!”

“Give me your pants,” Garak demanded. “I’ll put them in the press downstairs.”

“Garak, wh—”

“Give me your pants!”

Julian stood up and stripped off his pants, feeling like a fool. Heat spread across his face as Garak draped the pants over his arm. “Jacket too.”

Garak grabbed the collar of Julian’s jacket and helped him out of it, which was not doing anything for Julian’s spiking embarrassment and helpless arousal.

“I’ll be back,” Garak said as he headed for the front door. “Replicate me a bowl of _zabu_ stew, and I’ll join you when I return.”

Julian nodded meekly, standing there with bare legs.

Garak gave him a grin and the door shut with a click behind him.

Julian turned back to the replicator and hunched over it for a dazed moment before bolting upright. “Damn it! Garak!” He tore around the room, looking for a pair of pants to throw on over his underwear. The pair he found was the wrong color and he yanked them on without tucking his shirt in and took off out of the room in socked feet.

Garak continued to play him like a fiddle. An embarrassed, aroused fiddle.

Julian spent a few moments hopelessly searching around the hotel lobby before realizing that Garak must have left the hotel entirely. Feeling a black cloud of anger settling over him, Julian stepped out onto the street. It was nearly dark, but there were still plenty of Cardassians out on the street, and luckily, none of them seemed to be paying him any mind. Muffled music caught his attention, and Julian realized there was a bar across from the hotel, and from what he could tell, it was busy.

Julian crossed the street and entered the bar, which was dimly lit and loud. Julian peeked out from behind the turn in the entrance hallway to see Garak standing among a group of Cardassians, a smile on his face as he spoke to his captive audience. Where had Garak found a group of friends so quickly?

“Garak!” he hissed. _“Garak!”_

Garak looked up and his eyes widened. A few of the Cardassians around him followed his gaze. “James!” he cried and Julian glared at him. Garak gestured with a flourish. “Meet James, everyone. He’s a Federation smuggler, and very good at his job, too. Let me see what he wants.” Garak pushed out of the group and stepped behind the wall with Julian, out of the sight of the Cardassians in the room.

“Garak, I swear to god, you are going to—”

Garak shushed him, and Julian puffed up in anger.

“You are the bane of my existence, Garak, I swear you are the _worst_ assignment I have ever had. Making me buy an expensive suit and then _ditching_ me to—”

Garak reached up and gripped the back of Julian’s hair, holding him in place and effectively startling Julian into silence. “Julian, be quiet.” He was surprisingly strong, and Julian had no choice but to move where Garak directed him. Garak used his grip in Julian’s hair to make him look out across the room of Cardassians. “You see them? They will not take kindly to finding out you’re Starfleet, and I can assure you no Cardassian court will find them guilty of a crime against a human. So I would suggest you play pretend to the best of your abilities.” He pulled Julian back behind the wall and made steady eye contact.

“Understood?”

Julian swallowed heavily. “Yes.”

Garak smiled at him and released his hold. “Now, why don’t you get your suit out of the pressing machine and meet me at the bar? Drinking and schmoozing is much better than being shot, don’t you think?”

Julian sighed, knowing he had been outplayed. “Fine.”

 

Garak waited by the bar and was delighted when Julian came back, again wearing the suit Garak had lovingly picked out for him. It was a dangerous suit, Garak knew. When Julian wore his ill-fitting clothing, he was pretty in a way you could overlook. In a suit that fit, he was breathtaking. He was long lines and sharp angles, with a soft face that you couldn’t help but linger on. This was a man you trusted on instinct, and that was, in Garak’s opinion, the most dangerous kind of person. Garak pushed these thoughts to the side as Julian approached him.

Garak didn’t feel bad about running Julian in circles, not really, but Garak wanted him to see Cardassia in a good light. It was time to make it up to him.

Julian leaned against the bar next to him with a sigh. “You got me out here. What next?”

Garak ordered him a glass of kanar.

This bar was one of the nicer ones in the area, with a live band and decent drinks. Cardassians appreciated order, but they also appreciated a good party. Garak hadn’t been out dancing in so long, and he had missed it.

“Kanar,” Garak explained when Julian took the drink and sniffed it. “It’s strong but sweet.”

Julian took a tiny sip and made a face. “A little syrupy for my tastes, but not bad.”

Garak watched him take another sip. “You know what your problem is, my dear?”

Julian looked at him and frowned. “My problem?”

“You’re too trusting.”

Julian sighed. “I’m not _that_ trusting, Garak.”

“Then explain how I’ve been able to get away from you twice.”

Julian sighed. “Garak, at the risk of stroking your ego, I’ve never had to work with anyone like you before.”

Garak was thrilled by Julian’s exasperation, and even more thrilled by the fact that he seemed to be an exception to Julian’s rules.

“I know you likely have some knowledge of Cardassian society, based on your occupation. But you have never been on Cardassia Prime before, and I would like to give you more insight into our culture.”

Julian’s eyebrows drew together. “You would?”

Garak smiled. “Cardassia is a part of me, and you are the first non-Cardassian to know me as well as you do. I would like to share my home with you.”

Julian smiled. “Whatever you can teach me, I’d be incredibly grateful.”

“First lesson: Cardassians never show other Cardassians exactly what they’re feeling. It helps us protect ourselves as well as those around us.”

“Sounds Vulcan,” Julian responded with raised eyebrows.

Garak shook his head. “No, not quite. Vulcans deny any emotion at all. They control it, and their mask is without feeling. Cardassians show emotion that benefits them. What they express is not often the emotion they are feeling, or it is a slice of the emotion they’re feeling, toned down. There is a difference.”

Julian appeared thoughtful.

“Cardassians also enjoy dialogue and debate. The more heated a discussion, the more titillating.”

Julian’s eyes lit up. “So you flirt by arguing, huh?” He paused and then realization dawned on his face. “ _A Sunlit Path_ was a romance, wasn’t it?”

“It contained romance, yes.”

“You could have told me that.”

Garak shook his head. “And spare you the mystery?”

Julian sighed and rolled his eyes.

“Cardassian culture is about being bold and confident and taking a step forward when you desire something. You should never reveal that you might be on uneven footing, and carefully wielded subtext is always more intriguing than something told plainly.”

Julian took another sip of kanar. “This helps my understanding of Cardassians a lot,” he said. “I always felt like I was missing something.”

“This is a start,” Garak said. He tilted his head as the song changed, and he allowed a smile to show on his face. This was a perfect song for a beginner to learn to dance.

“Another important part of Cardassian social practices is dancing.”

Julian tilted his head. “Humans do it too.”

Garak gestured towards a couple who had just started the simple two-step dance that was most popular. “Dancing helps couples establish how they work together. They must synchronize their movements and learn where the other is planning to step before they do it.”

“In most human dances, one person is the lead and the other is the follow,” Julian said with his eyes trained on the dancing pair.

“Cardassian dance involves push and pull. The power of the dance shifts from one person to the next. Would you like to try it?”

Julian looked at Garak in surprise. “I don’t know….”

Garak took hold of his wrist, and Julian didn’t offer much resistance as Garak pulled him out into the small area designated as the dance floor. Garak thought about finding Julian a dance partner among the group that was sitting at a table in the corner, but Garak realized with some shame that he was feeling possessive. He told himself this was _his_ dance lesson, and that Julian would learn the best from him. It wouldn’t do to dwell on this feeling. There was nowhere for it to go.

“Place your hands on my chest, right under my shoulders,” Garak instructed, and Julian did as he was told with a strange expression on his face.

Garak placed his hands in the same place on Julian’s chest. “From this touch, the partners communicate with each other. A change of pressure tells your partner which direction you are going to move.”

“What if both people try to move in different directions?” Julian asked.

“A good dancer learns to follow when necessary to keep the flow of the dance, but will not hesitate to take the lead when there is a proper opening.”

Julian nodded and Garak put gentle pressure on Julian’s right shoulder and took a step forward with his right foot. Julian stumbled backward just in time, but after a few more applications of pressure and a few more steps, Julian’s responses became smoother and he seemed more sure of himself.  

“In a traditional Cardassian dance, you would be losing, my dear,” Garak said.

Julian frowned. “It’s just like Cardassians to have a winner and loser in a partner dance.” He faltered, and Garak stepped on the toe of his shoe. Garak didn’t tell him that this was another faux pas on Julian’s part.

“Ugh,” Julian mumbled. “How do I stop losing?”

“Take control of our direction when you have an opening. This is a dance of ebb and flow.”

Julian’s face scrunched in concentration, and when Garak paused to navigate them around another dancing pair, Julian pressed his advantage. His touch was heavier than it needed to be, but for someone new to Cardassian dance, it wasn’t terrible. Garak yielded with a smile on his mouth, helpless to the flare of heat settling in his stomach as Julian grew surer of himself.

Garak took the lead again, but this time he only had it for a few turns before Julian was pushing back. It was delightful, and if the smirk on Julian’s face was anything to go by, Julian was also enjoying himself.

“You’re doing better than I expected,” Garak said as the song began drawing to a close.

“You underestimate me, Mr. Garak,” Julian said, and when he pushed forward, some of the space between their bodies was lost. Garak could feel the heat coming from him, and he longed to pull Julian even closer to see how he would react.

Julian’s gaze sharpened on something over Garak’s shoulder, and before Garak could turn, Julian gripped Garak by the upper arms and dragged them both to the ground. The sound of disruptor fire filled the bar as Julian kicked a table over to act as a barrier between them and the assailant. Julian’s hand went to his waistband, and Garak turned to see two Cardassian men in dark clothing ducking out of the way of Julian’s phaser fire. His blast hit a small wall of kanar bottles, which exploded and chased the two Cardassians towards the back entrance they had come in through. The resulting commotion was enough to make them turn tail and leave the bar.

Julian was breathing heavily, his hair out of place, and when his gaze met Garak’s, his eyes were hard. “That was close.”

 

Julian felt like he was going to sink into the hard Cardassian bed, he was so exhausted. The adrenaline had worn off not long after Garak’s assailants had fled the bar, leaving Julian barely enough energy to answer the bored authorities’ cursory questions and make it back to the hotel. One glance at Julian’s identification had convinced the three officers that they shouldn’t be investigating Julian or Garak. Julian thanked his lucky stars that the Central Command had put their rubber stamp on him, otherwise this situation could have been even messier. The authorities had promised them that they would keep an eye out for the assassins, but Garak hadn't seemed overly confident in their abilities. 

Julian forced himself into a quick sonic shower and then crawled into bed.

He was half asleep when Garak spoke from the other bed. “Julian, where did you learn to shoot like that?”

Julian blinked his eyes open and tried to make out Garak’s shape in the gloom. Cardassia Prime’s moon was brighter than Earth’s, but Cardassian buildings were designed so that the barest amount of light crept through the windows. Garak was lying on his back, but Julian couldn’t see his expression.

“I learned at the Academy.”

“I’ve never fired a disruptor, myself. The Order never trusted me with that duty.” He fell silent for a few moments, and Julian was beginning to nod off again when Garak added, “You saved my life, my dear. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Garak,” Julian responded, and within moments he was fast asleep.

 

“Garak. Good to see you alive, despite your situation.”

Julian glared at Dukat, a man who looked even more ridiculous in person, which Julian hadn’t thought possible. Dukat would be leading Garak into the investigation proceedings since Julian was not even allowed in the building.

“You underestimate me,” Garak replied, expression darker than Julian had ever seen it. Garak’s demeanor had changed entirely as soon as Dukat had shown up, and Julian wondered just how much bad blood existed between them.

They were standing outside their hotel where Dukat had instructed them to wait, despite Julian’s insistence that he could get Garak to the state building just fine. Julian was allowed to follow them to the state building, but he wasn’t allowed inside. Julian wasn’t too happy about it, but despite his protests that this was a necessary meeting for Julian to sit in on, the Cardassian investigators wouldn’t budge on their no non-Cardassians rule.

“Agent Bashir, how are you this fine morning?” Dukat asked as a black skimmer pulled up to the curb. Evidently, they would be riding in style to the government building.

“No complaints,” Julian replied, not interested in small talk with Dukat, and they all three climbed into the cushy black interior of the skimmer. It glided back onto the street as soon as they were settled.

“You don’t seem thrilled to see me.”

Julian offered him a blank expression. “I still think we could have handled this on our own.”

“Nonsense! I’ve spared you a walk in the hot Cardassian sun, and Garak here is safer in this skimmer than he is out on the streets.”

Despite Dukat’s needling, both Garak and Julian were quiet the rest of the ride, and Dukat quickly tired of the game. By the time they stepped out of the skimmer at the city center, he was no longer smiling.

“I hope you’re prepared for this, Garak,” Dukat said, all humor gone from his expression. “A lot is riding on your statement, and you’ve not been known to do what’s best for Cardassia.”

“And you have?”

Dukat opened his mouth to argue, but Julian spoke before he could.

“Good luck, Garak.”

“Thank you, my dear.”

Dukat rolled his eyes.

Julian watched from the sidewalk as the two Cardassians walked into the dim depths of the looming state building.

Julian found a corner booth in a quiet café nearby and ordered a red leaf tea, hoping it would help to calm his nerves. The other patrons stared at him, but gradually, Julian’s posture and clothing helped him blend in, and the Cardassian patrons began to decide he wasn’t too interesting.

Julian tried reading the novel Garak had recommended to him but clicked out of it when the main character’s political enemy was arrested and dragged before the archon to be sentenced to death. Julian decided a medical journal was safer, and he always kept a few loaded onto his reader. Reading medical journals was Julian’s way of keeping in touch with the dream that had been torn from his grasp, despite the aching regret it often brought him.

Four hours after Garak and Julian had parted ways in front of the state building, Julian’s communicator chirped. _“Julian, the meeting has concluded if you would like to meet me outside the office.”_

Julian smiled. “I’ll be right there.”

The Cardassian sun was sweltering, as always, and the large displays mounted to the state buildings were looping a speech about the importance of civic duty by a man in a military uniform that Julian didn’t recognize. He had a droning voice, and it echoed over Cardassia City’s quiet streets. Garak was looking out across the street with a wistful expression when Julian joined him.

“Ah, there you are!” Garak said, expression shifting into a smile.

“How’d it go?” Julian asked as he wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.

“As well as I expected,” Garak replied. He began leading them in an unfamiliar direction, and Julian had no choice but to follow. “They are eager to make arrests, and to them, I make a convincing enough witness.”

Julian squinted. “You mean convincing to the public?”

“Of course.”

It didn’t matter if Garak was telling the complete truth, only that his story was convincing. Julian knew Garak would have no problem with that. Garak was a smooth-talker and a storyteller.

Julian wasn’t allowed in the courtroom, but the proceedings would be aired for everyone to see, and Julian would share in that privilege. Julian had only once watched a Cardassian trial, and it had been a minor land dispute—nothing as exciting as exposing a large organized crime ring. Julian’s nerves were bubbling at the thought of Garak going into the dimly-lit courtroom in front of an impassive Cardassian archon, but Julian was also excited to see Garak in his own element and eager for Garak’s sacrifices to finally pay off.

Garak took Julian to a quaint little restaurant (one he had assured Julian was out of his usual stomping ground), and Julian watched Garak interact with the woman who took their orders in mild fondness. Garak truly did belong here in this city, interacting with these people. Julian hadn’t realized just how out of place Garak had been on DS9 until seeing him here in Cardassia City. Julian felt the weight of his duty settling on his shoulders with the knowledge that he played an integral part to making sure Garak would return to Cardassia Prime one day.

 

Julian had elected to watch the trial in a public location so he could take in the reactions of the Cardassians around him. The trial was scheduled for the early morning, and Dukat, flanked by two Cardassian military men, showed up outside the hotel an hour before to escort Garak to the legal building.

“Good morning, Garak,” Dukat said with a greasy smile. “I hope you’re ready for this.”

Garak gave Julian a gentle tip of his head and a small smile as he stepped out the front door of the hotel and allowed Dukat to lead him away. Julian hoped his returning smile had been encouraging and not as pinched as it had felt.

Garak had recommended that Julian watch the trial from a nearby square, and Julian made his way there after Garak had climbed into the skimmer with Dukat. The square was open to foot traffic, with benches and small flowerbeds that were fastidiously maintained. A giant screen was affixed to a large building so that it was visible from anywhere in the square, a reminder that while the square may be nice, there was always the looming presence of the Cardassian state. It was still early, so Julian was able to snag a bench in the shade to wait for the trial to begin.

Julian watched as two Cardassian children—they couldn’t have been more than three and four—hopped across the flagstones while a mother and father watched them carefully from a small distance away. It didn’t matter where in the galaxy you were, the way parents looked at their children while they played was the same. Julian felt warmth settle in his chest at the sight of it.

The display above the square fizzled to life, and everyone in the square turned their faces up towards it. The screen showed a courtroom, dim and empty. A deep Cardassian voice-over filled the square.

“Good morning, Cardassia. Today is a glorious day for us all. Justice will be served as key members of an organization that has endangered the order of our wonderful city are put on trial and sentenced for their crimes.”

A shocked murmur went through the crowd, and Julian couldn’t help but be reminded of medieval law, where public sentences were made and crowds watched on eagerly as people were burned at the stake and hanged. This was only a trial, but Julian knew that Cardassians believed in public executions. He was determined to get off the planet before having to witness any of _that._

As Julian watched, Cardassians began filing into the courtroom. Four Cardassian children were led to chairs set into an alcove on the side of the room, presumably to watch the proceedings from up close. Julian wondered how these children were chosen, but the thoughts left his head as three Cardassians in black jumpsuits were led into the room and sat down across from the archon, who was just settling in.

The camera focused on the archon’s face, and this close Julian could see her elaborate hairstyle and the bright blue makeup on her forehead. “Today, three men will be put on trial for connections with the Obsidian Order. Investigators have determined that they are all three key players in the organization, and because the Obsidian Order has been threatening the peace of Cardassia for decades, they were found guilty. The punishment is a lifetime of hard labor.”

The three men in question were silent and grim-faced. These were men that knew their fate and wouldn’t question it. Perhaps they had known that the law was closing in on them.

The camera shifted back to view the whole courtroom, and the trial got underway while all of Cardassia watched in eager anticipation. This was a story that everyone knew the end to, much like the Cardassian mystery novel that Garak had given him. The joy was in finding out _why_ everyone was guilty and watching them accept their fate, but Julian couldn’t understand the appeal.

The first witness they brought in was not Garak, but a tall Cardassian man with his hair pulled back in a braid. It was not a common style for a male Cardassian, and it gave him a softer, distinguished look.

“Dr. Kelas Parmak. Please take a seat,” the archon instructed, and the man gracefully folded himself onto the witness’ bench.

Parmak described being targeted by the Order because he stumbled on knowledge of their smuggling ring. One of the Cardassians on trial had been directly involved in roughing him up and making sure he knew it would be worse if he exposed the Order.

Julian realized that this soft Cardassian doctor had steel in his veins, and he suddenly wanted to meet the man. He wondered if Parmak was in witness protection himself, and since the attack had been years ago if it had been the knowledge that Garak was testifying that finally allowed him to step forward with his own information. Julian decided to ask Garak about him later.

Parmak finished, and then Garak was the one ushered into the courtroom. Under the dim lights, he looked even more Cardassian than usual. Julian swallowed down his nerves as Garak took his seat.

“Elim Garak. You were once a member of the Order. What happened?”

Garak lifted his chin. “The Order assigned me to the assassination of a politician, and when I accepted, it was revealed that they wanted the man’s family dead as well. The Order does not often delve into assassinations, especially not those of entire families, and that was the turning point for me. I thought ‘this is not truly helping Cardassia. It is only helping the Order, and this bloodshed is needless.’ So I tipped them off. Escaping to Federation space was my only option. After all, one doesn’t just betray the Order and live.”

“Tell me, Mr. Garak,” the conservator began with a tilt of his head. “What happened after you decided to defect?”

“I received a mission that I knew was a trap and the end result would be my death. I managed to steal a freighter and get off-world, and the Federation picked me up. I was lucky the Order did not get to me first.”

Julian wondered which of the three stories were true, if any of them were. Garak’s skill for wrapping lies around himself was formidable, and Julian was impressed.

“How do you know the men in front of you?” the conservator asked him with a gesture to the three men on trial.

“All three of them were in the upper branches of the Order, responsible for making many of the decisions. Impressive minds, the lot of them, though I will say Rotal’s fashion sense leaves a lot to be desired and Pinan has no idea how to make a proper Cardassian dish, even if a disruptor was pointed at his head. Whoever heard of using _copat_ sauce in a pasta dish?”

There was a murmur of amusement from the crowd, and though Julian was worried Garak was being too cheeky, he realized that this was exactly what the public wanted. He was drawing them right in.

“Am I correct when I say you are currently in the protection of the Federation?” the conservator asked him.

“Yes, I am. Starfleet, to be exact.”

“And Starfleet is giving you a comfortable place to live, along with protection from the Order?”

Garak nodded. “They’re quite accommodating and very friendly. You should see the agent they put on my case! You’d think the Federation was running a—,” and here the translator failed to pick up on a Cardassian word. The crowd tittered in amusement and Julian frowned, unhappy that all of Cardassia had understood that and not him.

“Some may accuse you of taking advantage,” the conservator replied, a slight tilt to his mouth that told everyone he wasn’t unmoved by Garak’s joke. “Why should we be convinced that you’re telling the truth about these men instead of fabricating their guilt to be harbored by the Federation?”

Garak tilted his head in acknowledgment of the question. “The Federation is forgiving, their protection is all-encompassing, and the place they have relocated me is clean. And that’s not the only thing they have given me!”

Julian sucked in a breath and had to remind himself that they had already found the three Order members guilty. Garak was not proving his point to the judge. He was proving his point to the public and putting on a show.

“They’ve also given me the opportunity to be separated from the heart of Cardassia for months on end. They’ve allowed me to experience the agony of cold temperatures and bright lights for all hours of the day. The Bajorans glare at me and the Starfleet officers treat me with false cheerfulness, which is so much worse. Yes, I get sheltered by the Federation, but my only decent company is an irritating Starfleet officer who would give up loyalty to his state the moment it no longer suits his needs, and who thinks _The Neverending Sacrifice_ is propagandist drivel.”

Julian rolled his eyes and rested his chin on his hand. The Cardassians around him were eating it up, which was Garak’s intent, but that didn’t mean it didn’t sting a little.

They brought in one more witness after Garak, a shopkeeper who had fallen victim to the whims of the Order and who had come into contact with all three of the men on trial. She was unforgiving and scowled at the Order members the entire time she was on the bench.

In the end, Cardassian authorities took all three men away in handcuffs. Julian couldn’t help the small smile that formed on his face as he watched the trial come to a close with a voice-over of a speech about how serving the state was the most important part of Cardassian life.

 

“Garak! That was wonderful.” They were back in the hotel room, and Garak had immediately sat down on his bed when he entered the room.

“Thank you, my dear. Did you like the part where I complained about you to all of Cardassia?”

“The fact that you complained about me personally means I’m doing _something_ right.” Julian had started packing his bag and was leaning under the bed to make sure nothing had fallen down there. He peered up at Garak. “Who was the Doctor guy?”

“Parmak? An old acquaintance.”

And that was all Garak would say on the matter. He turned away from Julian and began packing his own things, his motions methodical and his face distant.

Julian knew that Garak had had a long day, so he left him to his thoughts and dealt with his own belongings. When he was finished, he found that Garak had finished before him and was sitting on the bed, staring off into the middle distance.

Julian sat down on the edge of his own bed, baffled by his sudden shyness. “Garak, is there something you want to talk about? You just went through a lot, and I’m a willing ear.”

Garak shook his head and when his gaze met Julian’s it had shifted into bland friendliness. “It’s nothing you would understand, my dear.”

Garak was already pulling out a reader, and Julian knew he had lost him. He wandered over to the replicator and picked the least spicy sounding item and watched it materialize, feeling his cheerful mood nosediving. Garak obviously had a dark cloud over his head, and though Julian was not incredibly empathetic by nature, he could definitely feel the effects of Garak’s mood taking their toll on him.

“Do you want something to eat, Garak?” Julian asked. He glanced over at Garak who had his nose buried in the reader.

“I’ll find something myself, thank you,” he said without even looking up.

Julian sighed and took his food to the little table by the window. He pulled up a Cardassian news source on his reader and read about the men who had been found guilty of association with the Order. They were all three dreadful types, at least according to the article, and Cardassia was better off with them behind bars. The Central Command was confident that they were getting closer to stifling the Obsidian Order in its entirety, but they still hadn’t managed to flush out the kingpin of the whole operation. They mentioned a shadowy figure that had his hands deep in Cardassia City’s inner workings and ended the article on a Cardassian version of “if you see something, say something.”

Julian shot a glance over at Garak, who was still doing his best to pretend he was alone in the room. Julian took another bite of the strange meatloaf-like dish and wondered if the inability to snag this kingpin was what was contributing to Garak’s foul mood.

Garak had made himself very visible to the world by testifying, and with such a large player running free, Garak would not be safe on Cardassia Prime. He would be stuck in witness protection for the foreseeable future. Julian would continue to do everything he could to make sure Garak was safe, but he truly felt bad for him. Being pulled away from his home to live on a station where people treated him strangely with no end in sight had to be dreadful.

Julian decided that when they were back on the station, he was going to get Miles to fix the environmental system so it would pump heat into Garak’s quarters and adjust the lights so it was more comfortable for him. It was the least he could do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hit me up on [tumblr](https://sareks.tumblr.com)


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back on the station, baseball happens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a slightly shorter chapter, but we're winding up for the last three chapters so stick with me!

As soon as Garak stepped through the airlock and onto the station, he felt a wave of dread crashing over him. After being back on Cardassia’s soil and hearing true Kardasi rolling off the tongues of the people around him, it was the worst kind of punishment to be back in the cold light of DS9. Julian was obviously trying to be cheerful to improve Garak’s mood, but it wasn’t working. Garak wanted nothing more than to hole up in his room and be left alone. 

“Thank you for everything you’ve done for me, Julian, but I need to recuperate from that ordeal,” he told Julian as they entered the habitat ring. 

“Of course,” Julian responded genuinely. His kindness chafed Garak’s foul mood. 

Garak spent the next few days hiding in his quarters. On day two, the door chimed and Garak was surprised to see Chief O’Brien on the other side. He was carrying a toolkit in one hand. 

“Garak, uh, hello,” he began haltingly. “I’m here to adjust your lights and heat. I can’t do it from the central system because all the station settings were reset when the Federation took over.”

“May I ask why you’re fixing them  _ now _ ?"

“Julian asked me to, and I was going to do it before you got back from Cardassia Prime, but the vole situation got much worse and I wasn’t able to find the time. So I’m doing it now.”

Garak stepped back and allowed O’Brien to enter. He made sure that none of the surprise he was feeling showed on his face. 

O’Brien immediately moved to the temperature controls, which were set to remain between a very specific set of parameters to keep most humanoids safe, but were still on the cold side for a Cardassian even at the highest setting. He pried the face off the controls and began tampering with the machinery behind the wall. 

Garak sat on the couch and busied himself with another Cardassian news report while O’Brien worked. Thinking about Cardassia and the Obsidian Order made dread settle in his stomach like lead. He had every chance to destroy the Order from the very top, but he had held his breath, and because of it, he was stuck here on this station for the foreseeable future. 

Tain’s hold on him was strong, even from this far away. 

There was a click, and warmth began flooding into Garak’s quarters immediately. It sank into his bones, and a tension that had always been present in him while on the station began to ease. 

“There’s the heat,” O’Brien said and straightened from his crouch in front of the temperature controls. “Now for the lights.” He moved down the wall and pried another wall panel off. If Garak had spent more time in these quarters, he might have figured it out, but O’Brien had it fixed in no time. “Lights, twenty percent,” O’Brien said, and the harsh white lights dimmed to a much more bearable level. 

“Thank you, Chief. I can’t tell you how much this means to me.” 

O’Brien gave him a smile that was slightly uncomfortable, but not insincere. “Of course. Make sure you thank Julian too. He’s the one who bugged me about it.” 

Garak nodded as O’Brien exited his quarters. He slept soundly for the first time in weeks. 

 

When Garak met Julian for lunch, it had been five days since they had gotten back from Cardassia. Julian seemed to be tiptoeing around him, but Garak didn’t want that, so he launched them into an argument about Shakespeare that quickly got Bashir riled up. That seemed to do the trick because soon Julian was smiling fondly and responding to Garak in his usual way. 

“Garak, I was wondering if you’d be interested in attending an event in the holodeck with me tomorrow. Quark’s is hosting a game of baseball, an old human sport, to raise money for war orphans. Sisko is a huge baseball fan and suggested it to Quark in order to help boost morale since everyone has been on edge with the looming threat of the Dominion. I suspect Quark has a massive betting ring going on, but as long as the war orphans get their money, it’s fine by me.”

“Who will be playing? Surely not holodeck characters.”

“It’s engineering versus security, actually. Should be an interesting game.”

Garak considered and then decided this glimpse into human culture couldn’t be passed up. “Sounds like good fun. I’ll be there.”

Julian’s answering smile was sunny. “Great!”

Garak researched baseball before the game and learned that it was a sport no longer played by humans but which had once been incredibly popular. The culture surrounding it was endlessly interesting to Garak, who decided humans had the strangest obsession with sports. Cardassians played sports, but they were all designed to hone certain skills, where it seemed humans played sports just for the fun of it, and at one point even made incredibly lucrative careers out of it. 

When Julian met Garak outside his quarters, he was holding something behind his back and looking more excited than Garak had ever seen him. He was wearing casual clothing in bright colors, and Garak couldn’t help but find him hopelessly attractive. 

“I have something for you,” Julian said with a grin. 

“Indeed?”

Julian brought his hands from behind his back, and he was holding something made of blue fabric in each hand. He brought one up to his head and tugged it on. “It’s a baseball cap.” 

He handed the second cap to Garak, who gazed down at it dubiously. “You want me to wear this?”

“Of course! It’s a part of the tradition.”

When Garak gazed at him doubtfully, Julian stuck out his lower lip.

Garak sighed. He tugged the cap over his hair and gestured to it with more scorn than was probably necessary. “How do I look?”

Julian reached out and grabbed the bill of the cap to adjust it on Garak’s head. Heat flared in Garak’s stomach as Julian regarded him with warm thoughtfulness. A large smile broke out on Julian’s face. “You look adorable, actually.”

“The things I do for friendship,” Garak responded, and Julian’s smile went fond. They started down the corridor and made their way toward Quark’s. As they neared the bar, it was evident right away that the noise level in Quark’s was higher than usual. Instead of the random cacophony of sound that was usual for the bar, it was the intent noise of anticipation. 

When they entered, Garak saw the line snaking up the spiral stairs and to the holosuites. At the base of the stairs, Leeta was scanning fingerprints for entry. 

“I hope you don’t mind that I bought your ticket for you,” Julian said. “After all, I did invite you.”

Garak shot him a look as they joined the end of the queue. “Why would I mind? That was very generous of you.”

Julian shifted his weight on his feet. “Some of my dates prefer to split it fifty-fifty.” His face reddened, to Garak’s growing interest. “Uh! Not that this is a date or anything. But you get my point.” 

“I accept your generosity with gratitude.”

The line was moving quickly, and when they reached Leeta, Julian smiled at her and pressed his thumb to the proffered Ferengi scanner. He gestured for Garak to take the stairs first. 

Stepping into the holosuite was like stepping through a door onto a warm planet. Garak had never truly understood the thrill of a holosuite until trying one out himself, and he had found that the warmth of holographic sun was nearly as pleasant as the real thing. The human sun that was currently shining down on them was brighter than Cardassia’s, and cooler, but it was an improvement on the cold station lights. 

Julian led them up into the stands and into a row where a handful of the DS9 senior staff were already taking their seats. Kira side-eyed them, but Dax gave them a friendly smile when Garak sat down next to her. Garak had only ever exchanged pleasantries with her, but she had never shown any hostility towards him, which was an improvement on many of the other station staff.

“Garak, Julian! Good of you to come. Garak, have you ever seen baseball before? Benjamin has subjected the rest of us to it, but I suppose there’s no reason for you to ever have seen it.”

“I took the liberty of researching the game after Julian invited me yesterday,” Garak replied. “Am I wrong when I say it’s a complicated sport?”

Dax shook her head. “Not at all. Most other widely popular human sports don’t have half the weird rules that baseball does. It makes for interesting viewing, though.”

“I’m sure.”

Julian elbowed him gently and Garak turned to him. “I knew you’d research it.”

“I can’t go into a situation blind!” 

Julian was smiling at him. “I can assure you half the people here have no idea how baseball works. Most  _ humans  _ don’t even know much about baseball.”

Garak lost his chance to reply when Sisko stepped out into the center of the baseball diamond. He was wearing a baseball cap with an outline of DS9 on the front and an outfit similar to what Garak had seen during his research. 

“Welcome, friends and colleagues! What a wonderful turnout. Today you will get to experience one of the most exciting games in human history!” He paused for a moment and a broad smile spread on his face. “At least in my humble opinion.”

There was a light trickle of chuckles from the crowd. 

“Today a handful of our wonderful station crew will be going head-to-head in the game of the century. I want to thank you all for being here to support your crewmates and the War Orphan Fund, which all of today’s proceeds will be going towards.” 

Down the row of seats from where Garak and Julian were sitting, Garak could see Quark shaking his head in derision. 

“So root for your favorite team, enjoy some traditional refreshments, and have a great time!”

A cheer went up as Sisko stepped off the diamond and into the stands to sit next to Jake in the first row. 

Garak recognized a few of the players, like the man who Garak had run into in the knickknack shop on his first day, but he was not overly close with anyone and did not care which team came out the winner. Julian was putting his faith in engineering, only because O’Brien was coaching them. Garak thought the security team appeared more athletic and also had more Bajorans, who were notoriously scrappy. 

Garak’s attention was only partially on the game, with Bashir sitting close enough to him that their arms continued to brush. Julian kept leaning in and telling stories about different people in the game, and his breath was warm on the side of Garak’s face. 

But there was a strange undercurrent to Julian’s behavior that afternoon, and puzzling through it with all the distractions around them was not an easy task. Julian could be unreadable when he wanted to be, and it meant that all Garak knew was that Julian was hiding something.  

“Who is that on third base?” Garak asked, mostly as an excuse to get Julian to lean in again. Garak could see Jadzia eyeing the two of them, but there was a fond smirk on her face. 

The security team ended up winning, but only by a few points, which was apparently enough to get the audience so riled up that they all jumped to their feet when the batter struck out for the third time on the last inning. Garak was content to watch them all celebrate. Julian was cute when he was excited, and his odd mood was momentarily dispelled entirely. 

“The War Orphan Fund is a good cause,” Julian said as they filed out of the holosuite with the rest of the audience. “I know you’ve been on Cardassia most of your life, but what are your thoughts on the Cardassian war orphan issue?”

Garak tilted his head. “In Cardassian society, children without parents don’t have status. To your average Cardassian, those children that were left on Bajor aren’t truly Cardassian children. They are less than that.”

Julian’s face was the picture of affronted horror. 

“I share your sentiment,” Garak said before Julian could reply. “Those children deserve to grow up on Cardassian soil, not left behind with a people who tolerate them at best and outright loathe them otherwise.” 

Julian remained in thoughtful silence until they cleared most of the crowds and were standing on the far end of the promenade. “I, uh,” Julian began as he shifted on his feet. “I actually have something I need to tell you.”

Garak gave Julian his full attention. 

“I’ve been put on an assignment.”

“Other than mine?” Garak asked. 

“Yes. I’m going undercover. Apparently, Starfleet Intelligence thinks you’re safe enough here with just Sisko keeping an eye on you.”

Something sharp lodged itself in Garak’s throat and he swallowed. “Is this a permanent reassignment?”

Julian shook his head. “I’m not sure how long it will take, but they told me I’m coming back here when it’s done. They still think this place is the best strategic location for an Intelligence officer.”

Garak nodded, but the relief was minor. Intelligence jobs could be incredibly dangerous, and they could take a very long time. “And the details of this mission I’m assuming are confidential.”

“Very much so. I’m leaving at the end of next week.” Julian chewed on his lower lip, and Garak drew small comfort from the fact that he was not the only one upset about this development. “The senior staff is holding a party in Quark’s in a few days, and I wanted to see if you’d be interested in going. With me.”

Something sparked along Garak’s spine. 

“What’s the occasion?” Garak asked.

“Jadzia was in the mood for a party,” Julian said with a shrug. 

“I will have to find an outfit. What is the dress code?” Garak asked and watched as Julian brightened. 

“Semi-formal.”

“I’ll start preparing immediately. I don’t want the senior staff to think Cardassians don’t know how to dress their best.”

Julian smiled. “Everyone already knows you have a wonderful sense of style. I don’t think you need to prove anything to them.”

“Well, then I suppose I need to make sure I don’t disappoint them.”  _ Or you _ , he didn’t add. 

“The party’s on Saturday. I’ll pick you up outside your quarters like I did today?”

Garak dipped his head. “Sounds wonderful.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hit me up on [tumblr](https://sareks.tumblr.com)


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Julian and Garak attend the station party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're really in it now lads :)

Julian was nervous. 

Pursuing romantic interests didn’t normally make Julian this nervous, but Garak was different, and somehow, the stakes felt higher. 

Garak had his chance showing Julian the finer points of Cardassian interactions, and Julian wanted to pull Garak onto his turf and show him how humans showed affection. He wanted to give Garak a good time and show him that while Cardassia may have it out for him, he could have a place here on this station with Julian. 

Now that Julian was no longer assigned to Garak’s case, he felt better about pursuing him, and in the last bit of time that Julian had on the station, that was exactly what he planned to do. 

Julian hemmed and hawed over his outfit for the party before deciding on silk and an asymmetrical neckline. He knew he looked good in it, and he was hoping that Garak would agree. Garak definitely had an appreciation for the way nice clothing looked on Julian if the suit had been any indication, and Julian wanted to show Garak that he could get it right on his own. 

Julian played with his hair in the mirror until it was artfully fluffed and checked his ensemble one last time. Knowing that there was no way he would be able to put this off any longer, he finally left his quarters to pick Garak up for the party. 

Julian pressed Garak’s door chime and waited. Only a few moments passed before the door slid open to reveal Garak, dressed in a sleek black ensemble that made it very difficult for Julian to drag his eyes to Garak’s face. 

“Good evening, Julian,” Garak said with a grin. “You look nice.”

“You too. Black is a good color on you.” 

Garak stepped out from his quarters and slid his arm into the crook of Julian’s elbow. Julian was not expecting it, but he kept the surprise off his face. They walked together, arm in arm, to the Promenade. 

“I thought the party was in Quark’s,” Garak said as they entered the bar to near silence. 

“It’s in a holosuite, actually,” Julian responded and guided them up the steps. 

Holosuite four slid open at Julian’s touch and revealed a gentle sun and sparkling water. It was a small resort with a patio that extended from the back towards the sparkling ocean that could be seen off the side of the white railing of the dock. Simple white seating lined the edges of the dock, and a five-man band was set up beside a small dance floor. A decent crowd was already mingling, and the mood was cheerful. Julian knew that none of it was real, but it was  _ breathtaking. _

“This is more than I expected,” Garak said with raised brows. 

“Jadzia is a wonderful event planner.” 

Garak stayed by Julian’s side as Julian navigated from conversation to conversation, and Julian’s nerves began to ease at the thought that maybe this wasn’t going to be such a big disaster after all. Garak was friendly when he needed to be, and the senior crew had already spent the month he had been on the station warming to him. To see him dressed up and following Julian around was enough for most of them to lower their defenses and allow Garak into their conversations. Kira and Odo were the only two that treated Garak with cool looks, but Julian didn’t sense any outright hostility from them, only caution. 

“I’m impressed that that move worked,” Garak said after Sisko had finished his story about winning a card game against a Betazoid in a bar. 

“Me too!” Sisko said with a big smile. 

Julian and Jadzia both laughed, but Garak was looking at him with more interest in his expression than anything else. Julian suspected that Garak respected Sisko, but would never admit to it. 

Julian realized it was time for him to make his next move. He could see Garak’s eyes begining to dull and his patience with idle conversation waning. 

“We should dance,” Julian said as they pulled away from Sisko and Jadzia. He eyed the band, which was still playing easy cocktail music. “One moment.”

Garak gave him a puzzled look as Julian skipped over to the band. “Do you take requests?” he asked the human guitarist in the front.

“Sure!”

“Any merengue?”

“I think I have a tune that’ll work perfectly,” the man replied with a wink.

Julian smiled and headed back to Garak as the song started with a trumpet hit and settled into a cheerful groove. “Come on, Garak. Dance with me.”

“I am afraid I don’t know this dance style,” Garak said with a small frown. He was watching Jadzia drag Kira out onto the dance floor, which was going more successfully than Julian would have thought. They were both laughing.

“I didn’t know that Cardassian dance, but I joined you,” Julian said. “Don’t worry, this is much easier.” When Garak continued to stare at him dubiously, Julian sighed. “So I’m willing to try a Cardassian style of dancing that’s completely foreign to me, but you’re refusing to learn a human dance? You’re being a bit close-minded.”

Garak frowned but followed him. “You’ll have to explain it to me.”

Julian smiled and took his hand to tug him to the dance floor. Sisko and Kasidy were out on the dance floor as well, and neither couple paid much attention to them as Julian coaxed Garak into the proper following position.

“Human partner dances usually have a lead and a follow. The follow does their best to go exactly where the lead instructs, and the lead makes sure to communicate their intentions.”

“Humans put such trust in their partner. Is this dance considered intimate?”

Julian shrugged. “It can be. It depends.”

Garak’s look of puzzlement was comical. “Human behavior gets stranger and stranger the more I learn about it.”

“Watch the way I move and try to mirror it.” Julian started them into a simple merengue step, and Garak’s face sharpened in concentration. It didn’t take long for Garak to start getting it, but Julian soon felt pressure on his hand and shoulder.

“Hey. Don’t do that,” Julian said.

“I apologize,” Garak said, and the pressure eased. “Letting you lead the whole time feels unnatural. If this were a Cardassian dance, I would be a fool.”

“I understand, but it’s more fun if you relax. I promise.”

Julian felt some of the tension ease out of Garak’s frame and pulled him closer. “Many Latin dances such as this one are easier when the dancers are closer together. That way, you’re able to feel how your partner moves and can adjust accordingly.”

Garak began adjusting to Julian’s movements more quickly, and soon they were perfectly in sync. After Garak had figured out the steps, his gaze never strayed far from Julian’s face, and there was something warm and fond in his expression. It made butterflies dance in Julian’s stomach. To be able to lead Garak with a hand on his strong back and to feel the warm pressure of his palm clasped over Julian’s in trust was intoxicating, and Julian wanted to bask in the feeling. 

Here was a man who had spent most of his life lying and being lied to, always looking over his shoulder to make sure there was no one behind him with a knife, and he was trusting Julian like this. Julian tried to tell himself that it was only a dance, but there was something about the way that Garak was looking at him. The setting sun played on the sparkling water, and Julian felt a hazy mood of romance settle over him. He wondered if Garak could feel it too. 

“Here, follow my lead,” Julian said, and when Garak gave a small nod of his head, Julian tucked him into an under-arm turn and pulled him back. It was the simplest turn of this dance, but Garak had a small smile on his face, and the space between their bodies had lessened. 

“On Cardassia, this sort of dance would be considered scandalous,” Garak commented, his voice low. 

Julian smiled. “I wouldn’t be surprised if we were scandalizing at least one person right now, though likely not for the same reasons.”

“Being scandalized every once in a while is good for you,” Garak replied. 

When the song pulled to a close, disappointment settled in Julian’s stomach. Garak let go as soon as the last note faded, but Julian’s loss was short-lived.

“My dear, this party is wonderful and your friends are interesting people, but I would love to go somewhere quieter.” 

“I have just the place,” Julian replied with a smile. 

It was an alcove on a storage level, rarely traveled due to the long-term storage bays that surrounded it. The large circular viewport cast a cold glow on both of them as they settled on either side of the ledge, facing one another. Julian was still feeling intoxicated from dancing with Garak, and that intoxication was making him bold. 

“Thank you for inviting me to the party,” Garak said. His voice was soft, and the space they shared in the alcove felt small and intimate. “I had a wonderful time.”

“I’m glad you came with me.” Their knees touched and neither of them pulled away. “You’ve been through so much recently, I wanted you to have a nice night before I went away.”

Garak was studying him, and in this lighting his eyes were a dark blue, warmer than they were in the bright light. “My dear, you are a mystery to me,” Garak said. “Here I see a man with the spirit of an explorer and an adventurer, and yet you wear the title of a spy. You were an aspiring doctor, and there is not one botched procedure, failed grade, or plagiarism on your Starfleet record.” Garak shook his head. “I must admit that it’s a puzzle I haven’t been able to figure out.”

And Julian realized he wanted to tell Garak. Badly. Telling Garak was a major security risk, but Julian somehow knew that if he revealed his secrets to Garak, the Cardassian would hold them against his heart and keep them safe. And how good it would feel to finally talk about it. 

“It’s not common knowledge. It’s the kind of thing that Starfleet would deny if it got out, and I’ve been instructed to keep it quiet.” 

Garak’s expression had sharpened in interest. “I promise, my dear, I will not tell a soul.”

Julian broke the eye contact and looked out into the sprawling mass of stars, burning lightyears away. “Starfleet doesn’t allow genetically engineered people to serve, and they definitely don’t trust them with people’s medical wellbeing.”

Garak let out a small puff of air through his lips, the sigh of relief that came with a puzzle piece clicking into place. “You’re genetically enhanced.”

“Yes. My parents were concerned their child was too slow, so at seven they sent me to Adigeon Prime and had as much of me enhanced as they could. The man that sits before you was created in a lab. My parents then erased all records of what they had done. An unfortunate incident in medical school with a gene encoding experiment exposed my genetic status, and I was kicked out of Starfleet Medical.” 

“And yet Starfleet kept you on.”

“I was a great medical student and a promising officer. My record indicated that I had a stable personality, so they decided if taking care of patients was too much trust to place in me, that they could put my skills to better use.” He was silent for a moment, toying with the sleeve of his shirt and trying not to let this conversation overwhelm him. “I’m glad to be allowed to serve. So many genetically enhanced people are not so lucky. It would have been nice, though. To be _Doctor_ Bashir.” It was an understatement of the loss he still felt when thinking about his forsaken medical career, but there was no putting that into words. 

A hand settled on his shoulder, and Julian looked up to see Garak’s face, soft with gentle fondness. “You would have made a splendid doctor, my dear, and it is the Federation’s fault that they can’t see how compassionate and driven you are. But I’m glad that my protection was left to you and not some other Starfleet Intelligence agent.”

Julian covered the hand on his shoulder with his own. “Thank you, Garak.” His voice was thick with emotion. He swallowed and squeezed Garak’s hand. “Back on Cardassia, there was something bothering you after the trial. I thought maybe it might have been leaving Cardassia, but I think it’s something else. You weren’t able to take down the head of the Order, were you?”

Garak pulled his hand away, and Julian felt a pang of loss. “I wish you wouldn’t ask that.”

“You don’t have to answer, but it was obviously bothering you, and I thought maybe…” Julian trailed off and sighed. 

“Enabran Tain,” Garak said. “The man is a shadow, and he has more power than the Central Command could even fathom.” Garak let out a breath. “He is also my father. He would never acknowledge our relation, but I am his son, and I find that that makes it very difficult to sell him out to the Central Command. I’m not even certain it would work.”

“Oh, Garak.” This time it was Julian who reached out and grasped Garak’s upper arm. “I can’t even begin to understand how difficult this whole situation has been for you, but I respect your strength and perseverance.” 

Garak met his gaze, and Julian found he didn’t want to pull away. “I could say the same about you, Julian.”

Julian gave a grim smile. “My father had me genetically engineered because I didn’t live up to what he expected and your father is the head of an organized crime ring and is trying to have you assassinated. We’re quite a pair.”

“We are indeed. I never thought I’d have much in common with a Federation spy, but the universe is a mysterious place.” Julian could drown in the expression on Garak’s face if he let himself fall. And oh how he wanted to let himself fall. 

“It is,” Julian agreed. Suddenly, the quiet corridor was too exposed, too public. “It’s getting late,” Julian said. “Would you walk me to my quarters?”

They walked slowly, hands brushing with each step, and exchanged stories from their younger years. It was easy to tell that the stories they shared were not told with all their details, by nature of them both having complicated lives, but it was nice all the same. Young Garak had been ambitious, but quiet and cautious as well. Julian longed to see what Garak had looked like as a teenager, imagining him with his fists clenched by his sides and his lower jaw stiff with indignation. 

“My parents were always concerned with me injuring myself,” Julian said quietly as they rounded a corner. “I was never allowed to roughhouse or climb trees or anything like that. They always told me it was because they wanted me to focus on reading and studying, but looking back, I understand their motivation to keep me uninjured. My genetic status would be undetectable to a regular doctor, but if anyone did any digging, it would all be over. I didn’t have many friends when I was young, needless to say.”

“That I can empathize with.”

They finally made it to Julian’s quarters and they stopped in front of the closed doors, facing one another in the empty corridor. 

“I’ve had a wonderful evening, my dear. Thank you,” Garak said with a small tip of his head. There was something in his expression that Julian couldn’t read as he continued. “I’m sure you have a lot of preparing to do for your new mission, so I will not keep you.”

Julian reached out and grasped Garak’s wrist. “Please, don’t go. I—,” he faltered. “I’m not going to start preparing for my new mission until at least a day from now.”

“Well, as long as I’m not imposing,” Garak said, and his voice was low as he stepped closer to Julian. 

“You wouldn’t be imposing,” Julian said, and his gaze moved down to Garak’s mouth without really meaning to. 

Before Julian could decide if he wanted to kiss Garak right there in the hall or invite him inside, Garak leaned forward and made the decision for him. Julian slid his fingers into silky hair and clung to Garak like a lifeline as they kissed in the corridor like teenagers, giddy after a date. Garak was sturdy, and he kissed intently, like he wanted to memorize the feeling of Julian’s mouth against his own.

Julian pulled back just enough to breathe, “We should go inside.” 

Garak kissed him again, and then allowed Julian to pull away to key in his entrance code. “Computer, lights ten percent. Heat up to 25 Celsius.”

The lights came on and heat started pumping from the vents. It would be warm for Julian, but he wanted Garak to be comfortable. Garak’s comfort had been Julian’s priority for two months, but now it was more personal. 

Garak tugged him close with an arm around his waist, and their noses brushed. 

Julian smiled fondly at him. 

Garak looked into his eyes for a few moments before joining their mouths in another kiss, this one deeper now that they were in the privacy of Julian’s quarters. Garak didn’t put off the amount of heat that a human would, but his touch was warm just the same. Insistent hands on Julian’s hips pulled their bodies together, and Julian sighed against Garak’s mouth. His fingers found Garak’s hair again, softer than human hair. It was perhaps the only part of him that was so soft, but Julian still had a lot of exploring to do. 

When Julian’s lips slid from Garak’s mouth to the line of scales that patterned Garak’s jaw, Garak tilted his head back to allow Julian easier access. Julian’s fingers found Garak’s shoulder ridges, and he was surprised when Garak gasped at the touch. 

“Those are sensitive, huh?”

Garak’s gaze was dark when it met Julian’s. “Very much so.”

Julian pressed into them and was rewarded with another deep gasp. “You’re going to have to show me what to do,” Julian said. “I’m remarkably unprepared for this. You Cardassians keep everything so close to your chest, it’s a wonder I know anything about you at all.”

Garak kissed the corner of his mouth. “We’ll learn together.” He smiled. “Are you going to invite me to your bed, my dear? I’m too old to be engaging in intimate activities anywhere else.” 

Julian kissed Garak’s cheek and his nose brushed against soft scales. “Elim, will you share my bed with me?”

“Delightedly.”

They tumbled into Julian’s bed, and their clothing was traded for the slide of bare skin. Garak’s mouth, so good at weaving lies, mapped the lines of Julian’s skin fastidiously, and Julian clung to him as if letting go would send him tumbling into the blackness of space beyond the station walls. 

Though Garak’s hands were sure when they touched him, Julian could see the crease in his brow and hear the whine in his breath when Julian pulled him down to align their bodies in pleasant friction. Garak was just as affected by this as Julian was. 

When Julian came, it was with Garak’s name on his lips and Garak’s arms around him. 

Later, after both their racing hearts had settled and their skin had dried, Julian lay with his head on Garak’s broad chest and ran idle fingers over the pliant, silky scales on Garak’s stomach. 

“You’re soft here,” Julian hummed. 

Garak’s nose was pressed into Julian’s hair, but he pulled back just enough to respond. “And the only reason you know that is because I trust you.”

“I’m lucky.”

“Luck has nothing to do with it,” Garak responded. His hand was a warm, protective weight on Julian’s lower back. 

Julian opened his mouth to argue, but what came out instead was, “I’m going to miss you.” 

Garak’s hold on him tightened for a moment. “You’re the one leaving me alone on this dreadful station.” 

Julian lifted onto his elbow so he could meet Garak’s gaze. “As soon as I can get back to you, I will.”

Garak’s other hand settled on the side of Julian’s face, his thumb swiping across Julian’s cheekbone. “I know you will.” 

Julian woke some time later to the sound of the chime on the computer bank in Garak’s room. Garak was already moving towards it, tugging a robe over his shoulders. 

_ “Mr. Garak, this is Captain Sisko. Dukat is demanding to speak to you. I’m sorry to wake you this early, but he’s insistent.” _

Sisko’s voice was slow and flat in the way it got only when he was reaching the end of his patience and the only alternative was snapping in irritation. 

Garak sighed and tied his robe tighter. “Fine. Put him through.”

“Garak! How lovely it is to see you up and about!” Dukat crowed, and Julian winced in sympathy. 

“Dukat. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I wanted to check to see that you were still alive. I was not notified upon your return to the station, and I was worried. That handler of yours isn’t very good at his job, is he?”

“Agent Bashir is doing a fine job. I’m alive.”

Dukat hummed. “I heard that he’s been reassigned and Sisko will be your only guardian. He’s a fine man, but is it enough? That’s not his only job, after all. I would hate for you to come to harm so far from home.”

“Dukat, how many times do I have to tell you that I am  _ fine?  _ Now do leave me alone. Your voice gives me a headache.”

“That’s what gives you a headache? Not the chance that you might die in Federation protection because they can’t even spare one ditzy agent to keep you safe? Garak, I am appalled by how your standards have sunk.”

Julian sprung from the bed and rounded the console until he could see Dukat’s smug face. “Gul Dukat, there is no reason for you to be calling Garak at this hour. You  _ know _ he’s safe.”

Dukat’s eyes had widened comically and Julian realized a moment too late that he was treating Dukat to the sight of his bare chest. He cleared his throat. 

“Unless you have reason to believe that Garak is in grave danger, and I mean  _ grave _ , you will not call here again. Now that Garak has given the Central Command all the information he has, he’s no longer on your leash.” 

Dukat blinked, but he recovered quickly. “Warm his bed while you can, Agent Bashir. Garak isn’t one for commitment.” And with that, the line closed and the screen filled with the Cardassian Union symbol. 

Garak side-eyed him. “That wasn’t very smart, my dear.”

Julian huffed. “Yes, well. Hopefully, that will give you a reprieve for a while.” 

Garak turned to him and grasped his upper arms. “You bold, impertinent man.” There was a smile on his mouth now, and Julian couldn’t help responding in kind. “Did they teach you that in Intelligence training, or is that all you?”

“I was often told to shut up.” 

Garak pulled him in and kissed him. “Their loss.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The merengue scene is actually the most famous scene from My Blue Heaven and if you're interested you can watch it [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y18TMghKZRA) :) 
> 
> Come talk to me on [tumblr](https://sareks.tumblr.com)!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Julian leaves Garak on DS9 and hopes for the best.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends! We're winding up to the last big hurrah! I was thinking this could all fit into 10 chapters, but it's starting to look like there might also be an epilogue. If there is, both chapter 10 and the epilogue will go up at once, so don't worry.

On the day that Julian left, the station felt colder than usual. It was a trick of Garak’s mood, of course, since the station was temperature-controlled, but Garak was in a funk and he allowed his dark mood to blanket him like a shroud. No one bothered him, and he went about his day wondering how in the Great Guls he was going to survive a potentially indefinite amount of time here without Julian. The station was only just bearable with Julian there. Without him, it was something out of Garak’s nightmares. He was bored, unhappy, and quickly realizing that Julian had been the only one keeping him from being dreadfully lonely. 

Julian, who had left with a kiss and a plea for Garak to behave himself, which Garak had agreed to only to make Julian smile as he boarded the runabout and disappeared from Garak’s sight. 

Garak was not a man of his word, not really, and Julian would never know.

Garak knew that working with Quark had been part of the reason he had ended up in a holding cell last time. This time, he would be more careful. 

Walking from the Promenade to his quarters, Garak thought about the baseball game he had attended with Julian and the way Julian had leaned in to whisper to him during the game. His breath had been warm on Garak’s cheek, and the air of the station was so cold in comparison. His expression had been earnest as he told Garak about the War Orphan Fund and asked Garak his opinion. 

An idea came to Garak. 

It didn’t require much planning. The signs should be easy enough to replicate, and the boxes even more so. After only a day of quiet deliberation, Garak decided it would be better than waiting for Julian to return. 

He replicated the items he needed, and the next day, Garak visited each of the shop owners on the Promenade and asked if he could place his collection boxes in their shop. The only dubious one was Quark, and when Garak promised him a portion of the collection, the Ferengi agreed eagerly. 

After all, no one could easily turn down the promise of help to the war orphans. 

In block lettering, the signs affixed to the donation boxes read,  _ Each Strip of Latinum Donated is One Item of Clothing Made for a War Orphan.  _

It turned out that people were eager to make donations to a cause for children, especially one that appeared to have such direct results. The donation boxes were quickly filling up, and Garak found that he had to make rounds to collect them each day so that he could empty them. He employed Rom to collect the boxes and count the latinum, since the Ferengi seemed eager for work that had nothing to do with his brother. He was good help. 

It was a smooth operation, and it was just enough to keep Garak occupied. Every moment spent counting latinum and collecting donation boxes was a moment that he didn’t spend ruminating on Julian’s wellbeing. He had no idea how long he could keep it up, but it was certainly a start. Garak hadn’t fallen this hard for someone in a long time, and of course, Julian’s occupation meant that he could be pulled away at any moment. Garak wondered if that said more about himself than it did Julian.  

Garak was in deep, and he was afraid pulling himself out would be more difficult than he had planned. He continued counting his latinum and tried not to let his mind run him in circles. 

 

Julian was going a bit stir-crazy. He had been in the same runabout for nearly a week now, sitting in the demilitarized zone between Cardassia and the Federation and hoping for a bite so he could tie up this mission and go home. His shields had been modified so that any ships that passed close enough would read the runabout as the supply ship they were expecting. Starfleet Intelligence had apprehended the supply ship in question and had gotten information about the supply line. Julian was now the bait to catch the Maquis raiders. 

Julian had never been good with long stretches of time alone, and this was more alone than he had been in a long time. It was just him, the runabout, and the quiet, uninhabited planet off to his right that he was using to hide the runabout from random patrol ships. It was incredibly lonely after being on a busy space station for years, and Julian wondered how he had ever done this sort of spy work before. Before, he hadn’t had the attachments he had now. Attachments were dangerous for an intelligence officer, if his current agitation was any indication. 

He had brought a few books, but they held little interest for him. With his mind unoccupied, his thoughts wandered often to Garak, whom he was missing dearly. Julian knew he was in good care under Sisko, but Julian couldn’t help but feel he had abandoned him. 

Julian wanted the Maquis to hurry up and appear so these thoughts didn’t plague him any longer. 

He only hoped that Garak was behaving himself. 

Julian was in the middle of imagining all the ways Garak could make a mess of things when the proximity alerts started sounding. Hoping that it was the Maquis, Julian scrambled for the sensors, only for his heart to drop in his chest. 

The Cardassian ship that appeared on the sensors was  _ not  _ the Maquis, and Julian had to scramble to get the runabout out of their sensor range. Ten minutes later, hiding behind a moon in the next solar system over, sweating, Julian was confident he had kept them from spotting him. The runabout was much smaller and more maneuverable than the Cardassian ship, and Julian knew from Starfleet Intelligence data that the runabout’s sensors had a slightly longer range than a Cardassian ship.

After an hour, Julian brought the runabout back to its original position and hunkered down to continue waiting. The silence was both reassuring, because no Cardassian ships were coming to attack him, and disappointing because no Maquis ships were coming to collect his shipment either. Julian powered his reader back on to continue working through the Cardassian novel. 

 

“Garak, I’m going to have to ask you to hand over the donation box and come with me.”

Garak looked up from where he was placing the box on the jumja stick cart and saw Odo giving him a stern look. 

“Surely you must know this is for a good cause,” Garak countered, raising his brows. 

“And yet even the Vedeks here to collect money for war restorations must get a permit. Do you have a permit, Garak?”

Garak straightened and tugged the bottom of his tunic into place. “It seems a bit strict to make people get a permit for something like collecting donations for war orphans.”

“Regardless of whether you think it’s strict or not, it’s still the rule, Garak.” 

“Well, I’m afraid you are going to have to arrest me for trying to provide warm clothes for the orphans. How unfortunate.” 

Kira was waiting in the security office when they arrived, arms crossed and looking furious. “Garak! How dare you use a good cause like this to take advantage of people?”

Garak blinked. “You think I’m taking advantage of people?”

“Yes! You’re pocketing all that latinum.”

“You have such little faith in me, Major.”

“You don’t even  _ sew _ , Garak. You have no supplies,” Kira replied. “There’s no evidence of you purchasing supplies or setting up a workspace to make the clothing.” 

“I haven’t gotten to that point yet. I assure you—”

“Enough gab, Garak,” Odo cut in. “You’ll be spending some peaceful time in a holding cell.” He began leading Garak towards the doorway to the holding cells. 

“Wait!” Garak said, and both Kira and Odo paused. “I have information you might find interesting.”

Kira narrowed her eyes. “Are you trying to cut a deal with us?”

“A very lucrative deal, if I may be so bold.”

“What do you have?” Odo asked, unmoved. 

“The location of a Maquis supply ship, given to me by an old Cardassian contact who owes me a favor. I saved his life, you know? It’s amazing what saving someone’s life will do to help you make friends.” 

Odo scoffed and continued ushering Garak back to the holding cells. 

“Wait a minute, Odo,” Kira said, and Garak knew he had her. “Garak, you said you have exact coordinates?” 

Garak smiled. The nice thing about being a man with information was that sometimes you didn’t even have to bluff. “I do.” 

 

Kira was all pent-up energy as their runabout neared the DMZ. Garak knew she had been a part of the Bajoran resistance, and he could see in the way she carried herself that that spirit had never truly left her. She didn’t like Garak, but she was willing to work with him if that was the logical choice, and Garak respected that about her. 

“You’re sure these coordinates are correct?” Kira asked. Odo was sitting behind them in the third seat, and Garak could feel the disapproval radiating at him from behind, but he remained quiet. He respected Kira’s choice to follow this lead. 

“Yes, I’m sure. It’s just a matter of tricking the supply ship to come out of hiding.”

Kira shot him a look. “Do you have any handy ideas, or are you going to leave that one to me?”

Garak smiled sweetly. “You were the one in the Bajoran resistance, were you not? Surely they taught you some tricks there.”

She shot him a look, but she turned back to the controls and began adjusting them rapidly. 

“What are you doing?” Garak asked.

“Setting the bait,” she replied, still working. “This was an old trick we used in the underground to scramble the sensors of Cardassian ships. Should be enough to make them think their contact is here.” 

Garak watched with interest as she finished adjusting the sensors on the console. “Alright. There.” She sat back in her chair. “Now we wait.” 

It didn’t take long for a small ship to appear on their sensors, and they had a tractor beam locked onto it immediately. Still keeping the ship’s sensors scrambled, Kira sent a message to the ship. 

“I’m telling them to drop their shields or we’ll drag them into the sun. That usually works for them.”

The ship dropped its shields, and as soon as they were down, Kira had a transporter lock on the one lifesign in the ship. They all three turned around in their chairs to watch as the figure materialized on the small transporter pad.

It was Julian, face set in grim determination as he reached for his phaser, which broke into confusion right as Kira’s did the same. 

Kira immediately rounded on Garak. “What the  _ hell  _ is wrong with you?” she snapped. “Do you think I’m some kind of fool? That’s it! Odo, arrest him for money laundering. I’m processing him under his real name.”

“But Kira!” Julian said, finally breaking from his frozen surprise to step off the transporter pad and towards the front of the runabout. “He’ll have the Obsidian Order on him immediately.”

“He should have thought of that before he decided to break the rules and waste our time! We let him get away with too much before, and now I’m done dealing with him.” Kira’s gaze was steely, and Garak knew no one would be able to change her mind now.  

Garak met Julian’s wide gaze and knew he had judged this situation incorrectly. 

Julian piloted the runabout back to DS9 with dread bubbling in his stomach. Stupid Garak and his stupid disregard for the rules and for his own safety. There would surely be Obsidian Order agents on the station as soon as Garak’s name got out on subspace, and Julian’s hands were tied; the Bajoran Militia was out of Starfleet Intelligence’s jurisdiction and Garak had broken a station law specifically. There was nothing to be done about it. Julian had spent another ten minutes arguing his case with Kira and Odo, but they were firm in their position—Garak would be arrested and processed for collecting money on the Promenade without a permit as well as laundering that money. 

Julian hadn’t even been gone that long. 

He was frustrated with Kira and Odo for not understanding the gravity of the situation, but he was even more frustrated with Garak who seemed intent on throwing his own life out the window because he was bored. He was like a cat left alone without enrichment toys who took his restless energy out on the brand new curtains and got tangled in them in the process. 

To add icing to the already gaudy cake, Julian’s cover had been blown and the mission was forfeit. They would catch the Maquis someday, yes, but the failure was bitter on Julian’s tongue. 

When they got back to the station Odo whisked Garak away to a holding cell, giving Julian no chance to say anything to him. Visiting hours weren’t until later that evening, so Julian was left to stew and wonder just how to get Garak out of this mess.

Julian was watching the subspace channels when news of Garak’s arrest went live, and he was sure that it would only be a matter of time before those men who had shot at them in the bar on Cardassia would show up here to end Garak’s life. 

“Agent Bashir, I know you’re worried about him, but I am doing everything I can to make sure that no one suspicious ends up on this station,” Sisko told Julian in his office that night. Julian had gone there for reassurance, which Sisko was very good at providing when he was able to.

“It’s easy to fabricate a name and species,” Julian responded. “This is the Obsidian Order we’re talking about here.” 

Sisko shook his head. “I’m sorry, Agent. My hands are tied. He broke the rules and Kira has made the decision to prosecute him, which is well within her rights.”

Julian hung his head. “This is so frustrating. If only he could’ve behaved himself for  _ one week _ .”  

“It seems to me that Mr. Garak doesn’t know how to behave himself.” 

Julian rubbed his eyes. “I’m just going to have to keep a close eye on him. Any time he leaves the security office, I need to be with him. If someone on this station means Garak harm, I’ll know about it before anyone else.”

Sisko was looking at him strangely when Julian glanced up at him. 

“Sir?”

Sisko shook his head. “Nothing. I’ll do my part to make sure Garak is safe, you have my word. I’ll see you tomorrow, Agent Bashir.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on [tumblr](https://sareks.tumblr.com)


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> DS9 holds a hearing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it, friends! It's been a fun ride, and I hope you've enjoyed it nearly as much as I have. Thanks again to the wonderful [boomdeyadah](https://boomdeyadah.tumblr.com) for being by my side throughout this journey. Thank you for loving Garak as much as I do and helping fit him into the My Blue Heaven chaos.

On the morning of the hearing, Julian woke with a pounding headache and no time to visit the station doctor for painkillers. Doctor Jabara would scold him later for letting a headache of this level stew, but there was nothing for it. Julian immediately made his way to the security office to be a part of Garak's escort to the courtroom, a storage bay that had been re-appropriated after the Federation moved in. It didn’t get much use, because most crimes committed on DS9 where either minor enough to only allow for a few nights’ stay in a holding cell, or were enough to get a person shipped off to a Starbase for an official Federation trial. Julian was grateful that at least Kira had decided to hold the hearing on the station and deal with it internally. Protecting Garak on a Starbase would be a nightmare.

When Julian entered the security office, Odo was collecting a handful of PADDs and mumbling to himself as he did so. He barely glanced up. “You can wait by Garak’s holding cell. Don’t let him out.”

Julian rolled his eyes and entered the holding cell bank to see Garak pacing his cell, agitated. 

“Garak.”

Garak paused and looked up, and his entire demeanor shifted from agitated to calm and sure. “Julian! How nice to see you. You’re the first pleasant face I’ve seen since yesterday.”

Julian moved close to the force field. “Are you alright?” 

“Quite fine.”

With that out of the way, Julian’s frustration finally bubbled over. “What were you thinking, Garak? I thought we had a deal.”

“You seem to forget who you’re talking to,” Garak replied coolly.

“It was  _ one week,  _ Garak. And your little scheme was ham-fisted at best. Collection boxes? Really?”

“You were the one who romanced me and then left me alone here. It’s not my fault your Federation thinks me disposable now that the trial is over.”

“You were safe here, Garak! Now, because you couldn’t control yourself, there’s a very high chance assassins will end up on this station!”

“I’d say that’s the fault of the Federation, allowing the Bajoran militia to push them around like si—”

He cut off as Odo entered the holding cell bank with two security officers. The tension in the room was high, but if Odo noticed, he didn’t comment on it. 

“Alright, Garak, no funny business. We’ll be watching you closely.”

Julian bristled. “I rather think you should pay attention for potential assassins,” Julian said. “After all, it’ll be your fault they’re here.”

Odo crossed his arms. “Isn’t that why we have you? Besides, I doubt the Obsidian Order has time to dispose of Garak. They’re too busy dealing with their own losses.”

“You don’t know how the Order works, Constable,” Garak replied as one of the security officers stepped forward to lower the force field. “They don’t leave any loose ends.”

“For some reason, I don’t seem to trust your judgment,” Odo replied. The two security officers flanked Garak while Odo followed them as they escorted Garak out of the holding cell back and through the security office. Julian followed a little behind Odo, keeping a sharp eye on their surroundings as they entered the Promenade. 

Everyone was suspicious, and everything was a threat. Cardassians were known for their ability to disguise themselves, and Julian may have had a trained eye, but Federation spy work was all about prevention. Their prevention had failed and now he was relying on nothing but his observation skills to protect Garak. Julian didn’t enjoy it, not one bit. 

They made it through the Promenade without incident, and by the time they entered the converted storage bay, Julian was feeling a little better about the likelihood of Garak surviving this hearing.

There was only a small crowd of people attending, which included most of the senior staff, as well as a few other officers who had been curious enough to attend. Sisko, as the commanding officer of the station, would serve as the judge, and a small group of randomly-selected inhabitants made up the jury. Garak sat in front of the small audience, facing Sisko and the jury. Julian sat as close to him as he could, already calculating how he would need to jump if assailants got into the room. 

Sisko called the hearing into session, and the room settled into silence. 

Kira stood and approached Sisko. “As you all know, the Federation has been keeping Garak here in an attempt to harbor him from the Obsidian Order. He’s important, they told us. But to us, he has been nothing but a menace—stealing shipments, breaking into runabouts, and accepting donations for a fake project to help the war orphans.” 

There was a murmur of disgust from the crowd.

“Why should we allow this ungrateful Cardassian to wreak havoc on our station? He may have been allowed to behave this way on Cardassia, where half the population treats the truth like it’s optional, but here on DS9 where we all know one another and rely on each other for the station to function properly, he’s out of place. The Federation should not be allowed to simply dump this Cardassian on us.”

Sisko’s face was impassive, but Julian could see that the jury was eating up what Kira had to say. 

“The Federation assumes that the Order is doing everything they can to eliminate Garak, but is one Cardassian so important? They think that Cardassians in black suits are going to sneak onto the station with their disruptors and shoot Garak where he sits, but I think they’re so wrapped up in their melodrama that they forget—”

Julian had gotten so invested in her speech that the shout of a Bajoran security officer at the front of the room made him jolt in his seat. He spun around quickly and saw that the Cardassians from Kira’s speech had materialized at the back of the room, disruptors pointed into the crowd. 

At once, they started firing, and Julian had only seconds to grab Garak by the back of his tunic and fling them both to the ground as the disruptor beams flew over their heads. The plastic chairs that everyone was using were little in the way of actual cover, and each disruptor blast felt like it came closer and closer to hitting them. Julian tugged on Garak’s arm, and together they crawled down the row of chairs, ducking to the ground every few moments to avoid a particularly close shot. 

“I’m blaming you for all of this,” Julian hissed. 

“If it makes you feel better,” Garak responded, and in a few more heart-stopping moments, they made it to the storage bay doors and snuck outside in the chaos. Julian felt bad about leaving the assassins in a room full of people, but there were a handful of security officers in there, and with their target no longer in the room, hopefully they would lose interest quickly. 

Together, Julian and Garak high-tailed it away from the storage bay and towards the Promenade, where Julian was certain they’d find a place to hide. Garak seemed to know where he was going, judging by the way he tugged on Julian’s arm and pulled him towards the back of the Promenade. They stopped in front of the closed doors of the empty shop and Julian turned to Garak with raised brows. “I don’t have access to this.”

Garak grinned knowingly at Julian and pressed his thumb against the scanner. It chirped and the doors slid open. 

Julian opened his mouth in bafflement but didn’t have a chance to respond as the lights in the empty shop clicked on to reveal tables full of fabric, mannequins, and what appeared to be a set of sewing tools. Julian stared at the makings of a tailor shop, trying to come up with something to say. 

“Is this yours?” he asked after a few long moments of silence. 

“It is indeed. Though the permit to run a shop from this location and the lease is written out to a man that doesn’t exist, due to my current status.” 

“What’s all this?” Julian asked, pointing to the large piles of fabric on the drafting table. 

“The clothing I was making for the war orphans before I was so rudely arrested.”

There was a commotion, and both Julian and Garak looked over to see Kira jogging towards them, her face a thunderclap. Odo was right behind, followed by Sisko. None of them looked happy.

“What’s all this?” Kira demanded, gesturing to the shop. 

“It’s what’s soon to be my tailor shop, Major.” 

“Your tailor shop? What the hell are you talking about?”

Garak strolled over to where a sewing machine was sitting on the table and ran his palm lightly along the top. “I have always had a fondness for tailoring, but my life in the Order made that impossible. I thought, ‘what better time to follow my dreams of tailoring than right now, stuck on this station?’”

Everyone was staring at him blankly now as he gazed back at them with an unbothered smile. 

“I thought a Bajoran man had rented this space,” Sisko said. 

“The name I gave you was Bajoran, yes.”

Sisko’s frown deepened. 

Kira stepped further into the shop. “So you mean to tell me you’ve had this planned the whole time? That the donations weren’t a scam?”

“I think the evidence supports that claim,” Garak responded. 

“How do we know you didn’t just get people to set this up while you were in custody?” Odo asked with his arms crossed. 

Garak stepped around the table and rested a hand on his heart. “I would never do that to children. I myself had a terrible childhood, and the thought of depriving  _ orphans  _ after promising them clothing? Unthinkable.” 

“I didn’t think Cardassians cared for orphans,” Kira responded with narrowed eyes.

“Let me tell you a story, Major,” Garak replied. “When I was only a child, I found out that my gentle and kind father wasn’t my father at all, and that the terrifying man my mother worked for was actually my biological father. It was a crushing realization, but one that came with the desire to please this mysterious man. He would never admit to being my father, but he took me under his wing just the same and taught me all the skills needed to be successful.” 

Garak shook his head. “A week before I turned five years old, he promised me that on my birthday, he would take me to the park to learn how to ride a riding hound. I was beside myself with excitement. Finally, we were going to take a father and son trip, and he might actually acknowledge me as his child. I spent the next week in barely checked anticipation, and then on the morning of my fifth birthday I ran into the sitting room, my heart pounding rapidly in my chest in excitement to find him sitting there with a blank expression on his face.”

Garak’s audience was captive, Julian included, and he could almost imagine dramatic, sorrowful music playing as Garak reached the crescendo of his story. 

“And when I asked him if we were going hound riding, he told me—”

“Nobody move!” 

They all turned to see the two Cardassian assassins standing in the doorway of the shop, disruptors pointed directly at Garak. The shorter of the two continued speaking. “This is between Garak and us. Everyone step away from Garak, and nobody else gets hurt.” 

Julian cursed himself for getting distracted and letting themselves get cornered in here. 

Garak held up his hands in a placating fashion. “Okay. Just give us a moment, please.” He shot the rest of them a look, and Julian reluctantly followed the others as they stepped back. Julian knew when he had been bested. The only thing to do now was bargain. 

Faster than Julian could have imagined, Garak flung himself to the floor behind the drafting table, and from the other side, fired the phaser that had somehow ended up in his hands. The phaser blasts hit both men in the chest and they crumpled. There was a moment of shocked silence, and then Odo’s security officers ran up to handcuff the unconscious Cardassians to take them to lockup. 

Garak stood and straightened his tunic primly. He spun the phaser in his hand as he moved toward Julian. “Starfleet equipment does have finesse, despite its inelegant design.” Julian realized that it was his own phaser that Garak had nabbed from him without Julian realizing. 

“I thought you had never fired a—”

“I lied,” Garak replied, before Julian could finish, and he gave Julian his phaser back. 

Julian frowned and tucked the phaser back into his belt, face hot from the knowledge that Garak had lied to him and gotten away with it  _ again.  _

“So, where was I?” Garak asked cheerfully after the Cardassians had been dragged away. 

“It was the morning of your birthday and your father was just about to speak,” Odo replied. He was trying not to appear interested, but Julian could see the sharp attentiveness in his features.

“Ah yes! His response to my question was a solemn shake of his head. Gaze firmly locked on mine, he said, ‘There will be no hound riding today, son. Your adoptive father was found dead this morning.’” 

Garak paused, and there was silence in the tailor shop.

“That was the only time he ever called me son. From that moment, I decided that children, with and without parents, deserve happiness.”

Garak’s audience sat in solemn silence for a few moments, until Kira spoke. “I still don’t see how you can prove you didn’t have people set this up while you were in custody.” 

Julian stepped forward. “I believe him.”

Kira scoffed. “He  _ just _ told you he had been lying to you!” 

Julian shook his head. “This is different. I’m asking you to trust me on this one, Major. If he fulfills his promise to the children, what does it matter?”

“I don’t see the harm in letting Garak finish his commissions,” Sisko cut in. 

Kira didn’t look thrilled, but the shootout had taken the fight out of her. “Fine. After all that, I can’t deny the danger he’s been in.” 

A smile grew on Garak’s face. “Thank you, Major. Your support means the world to me.” 

Kira rolled her eyes. “Whatever, Garak.”

The commotion died down gradually as people realized the action was over and that they could continue with their day. The senior staff that had collected in the shop eventually went their separate ways until Julian and Garak were the only two left. Garak was toying with the sewing machine idly. 

Julian wondered where they would go from here, after all that had happened. Garak was still wanted by the Obsidian Order, and they now knew he was on DS9. Would the Federation insist on moving him somewhere else? Julian was still assigned to DS9, and the thought of Garak being pulled away from him sat heavily in his stomach. 

“I can feel your stare from across the room,” Garak said, breaking Julian out of his thoughts. “Is there something you’d like to share?”

“I’m just thinking about our future, that’s all.”

“Ours?” Garak set down the piece of fleece he had been holding to offer Julian his full attention. “You’re still interested in being a part of my life, after all that?”

Julian scoffed. “Has anything really changed? You’ve always been this infuriating.”

Garak regarded him with bright blue curious eyes, and Julian pushed off of the table to move closer to him. 

“Garak, I may not be assigned to your case anymore, and you may make the worst decisions ever, but that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t still do everything in my power to make sure you’re safe and happy. And that’s because I  _ like  _ you, Garak.”

“How you manage to continue surprising me, I will never understand,” Garak replied in a low voice. 

Julian leaned forward and kissed him. 

The console in the shop pinged, and Garak pulled back with a frown on his face. Julian wondered who would have the direct line to the shop as Garak activated the screen. Nonsense symbols began scrolling across it. “It’s encrypted.” Julian peered over his shoulder as Garak entered the encryption code, and when he did, there was nothing but a line of text on the screen.

_ You have proven that Cardassia is no longer your home. As long as I am living, you are not welcome here. Let your quiet exile be a reminder that the betrayal of family is the worst thing a Cardassian can do.  _

Garak was silent until long after the words had disappeared from the screen. Julian could only see the grey curve of his cheek from where he was standing, but he could feel the tension in Garak’s frame. 

“Garak?” he asked quietly. 

“I suppose I’m no longer in any danger on this station, am I?”

“Oh Garak, I’m so sorry.”

Garak turned the console off with a quick click. “What’s done is done. At least now I’m not being hunted.”

Julian squeezed Garak’s arm, and when Garak finally looked at him, he tried to school his features into an expression of support, despite imagining what expletives he’d shout at Tain if he ever came face-to-face with him.

“Now, I have some clothing to make. Would you like to entertain me while I work?”

Julian smiled. “I would love to.”

 

Julian spent most of the time Garak spent working on the clothing for the orphans wondering if Garak would high-tail it from the station as soon as he was finished. They continued to have lunch together, and they spent more nights together than they did apart, but there was a layer of uncertainty that blanketed Julian. He had no idea if this was permanent, and it was driving him crazy. Garak had no reason to stay here, other than Julian himself, and was Julian really so important that Garak would stay on this station that he hated? 

A month and a half from the time that Garak’s trial went belly-up, Julian received an electronic invitation to an event in Garak’s shop. 

_ Garak’s Clothiers Grand Opening _ , it read, and Julian felt hope bloom in his chest. Was Garak truly going to stay on the station? Why hadn’t he said anything about this? 

Julian spent the day in a haze of anticipation. He tried not to get his hopes up, because for all he knew Garak could be opening a shop for someone else to run. If tonight went badly, Garak might decide to leave anyway. The mixed feelings left Julian feeling dreadful. 

At twenty minutes until the opening, Julian received a communication from Starfleet Intelligence regarding Dominion movements beyond the wormhole, and it became a conversation that dragged on much longer than Julian had wanted. This particular Intelligence agent was known for being talkative, and Julian didn’t have the heart or the authority to cut him off. 

By the time the call ended, the opening was already underway, and Julian nearly bolted out of his quarters to head to Garak’s shop. 

_ No one will have shown up and Garak will think I don’t care about him and he’ll leave forever and I’ll never see him again.  _

Julian nearly slammed right into the back of a man who was waiting outside Garak’s shop, and it took a moment for Julian to realize that he was waiting in line to get inside. Julian took a step back and saw that Garak’s storefront was bustling with activity. There were Starfleet officers, station inhabitants, as well as a handful of Bajorans who had become friendly with Garak in his time on the station. 

“Hello, Agent Bashir.”

Julian turned to see Sisko walking past him towards the shop. 

“You’re going to Garak’s?”

Sisko raised an eyebrow. “I’m in need of a new suit, and Garak here is very good.” 

Julian’s mouth hung open a few moments too long. “You don’t say.”

Julian eventually pushed his way into the shop, and there was Garak, interacting enigmatically with his new customers and thriving in the center of attention. Jadzia was there, with a reluctant but amused Kira in tow. Quark was on the far side of the shop eyeing a suit on display, and even Miles had made an appearance to get patches put on the elbows of his uniform. 

Julian was blown away by how the station had come together to make Garak feel welcome. 

“Do you need something tailored, my dear? Maybe you’re looking for something commissioned?” Garak asked the moment he had a chance to breathe. 

“Do you have something in mind? I’m not picky.”

Garak’s gaze swept over his face and then down over his body. “In fact, I believe I do. Why don’t you come by my quarters tonight for dinner, and I’ll take your measurements.”

A smile tugged at the corners of Julian’s mouth. “How could I refuse such a tempting offer?”

Garak’s smile sharpened. “You’re finally learning! I will see you tonight, my dear.” He leaned in and placed a quick kiss on the corner of Julian’s mouth, and then he was sweeping away to greet his next customer, voice rising merrily above the din in the shop. 

Julian smiled and stepped back to revel in the chaos, knowing that this bubble of happiness wouldn’t last forever, but excited at the possibility of creating his own happiness, hopefully with Garak by his side. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again, friends :) Come find me on [tumblr](https://sareks.tumblr.com)


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